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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23854195">He who sees the bloom alive</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplejabberwock/pseuds/purplejabberwock'>purplejabberwock</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Thy word is a lamp [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fate/Grand Order</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:29:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>39,470</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23854195</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplejabberwock/pseuds/purplejabberwock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I hope he answers you. But I fear for what it means if he doesn't."</p><p>As far as Romani is concerned, everything <i>is</i> fine. He's making friends. He's acclimatising with being alive again. He's even stepping up to his not-parental responsibilities.</p><p>Except: Merlin. Merlin is a problem. An ongoing problem, for more than one person in Chaldea, and Romani's taken Gilgamesh's lesson to heart.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fujimaru Ritsuka/Mash Kyrielight | Shielder, Romani Archaman &amp; David | Archer, Romani Archaman &amp; Fujimaru Ritsuka, Romani Archaman &amp; Leonardo Da Vinci | Caster, Romani Archaman &amp; Mash, Romani Archaman/Merlin | Caster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Thy word is a lamp [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1486823</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>235</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Those unnamed wishes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beanna/gifts">Makari Crow (Beanna)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>And here you go, the next instalment, which I think is my shortest one yet (and I honestly thought it would be twice as long. I need to get better at this 'estimate' thing). In the past we've posted instalments together, so for clarity, this one will be alone. From here on, fics need to be finished before the next can be written, so they'll be coming one at a time, unless we say otherwise.</p><p>This one has spoilers up to LB1, but only in the form of 'what's up with Mash's health, anyway'.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"There." Mash straightens the rose's petals and pats down the edges of Romani's hair sticking out, and looks up at Romani in the mirror with a smile. "I think we've done good work, Senpai."</p>
<p>"I think we've <em>definitely</em> done good work," Ritsuka agrees, hovering over Romani's other shoulder with a critical eye. "What do <em>you</em> think, Doctor?"</p>
<p>Honestly, Romani's a little choked up right now, and also laughing. It's a very weird feeling, having those two things collide. The everlasting braid-vs-bun argument the girls have been having almost since the Grand Order was initiated has now reached its culmination in a hybrid. The moment she'd come into his room for lunch Ritsuka had seized with determination the length of his hair that refused to be cut. Romani is still pretty sure she'd been trying to find the magic in it, she'd stared down at it with such concentration as she braided it. That is now the bind keeping his hair in a bun, and secured with the happily blooming rose at the top.</p>
<p>"I think you've both done a <em>very</em> good job," Romani manages after a moment, still laughing. He's not so sure on the man-bun look himself. It reminds him a little too much of Lev, and his heart squeezes in his chest. The tears may not totally because he's touched by their enthusiasm — not totally. Even so, the smile is making is cheeks ache. He does like the use of the braid, and the rose, to secure the rest of his hair. There seems to be a lot more of it now, the day after, than there'd seemed just after having cut the rest of it off.</p>
<p>Not too much, though. Just enough. Carefully, he shakes his head, and feels the rose's stem twining more deeply still, obstinately secure. "This might even have to become my standard."</p>
<p>"Ah!" Mash beams, and strokes the rose again, and Romani's pretty sure he's not imagining the way it leans ever so slightly into her fingers. "It's more secure than on your wrist, too. And won't get in the way of your work!"</p>
<p>"Uh huh, uh huh." Ritsuka nods. "And if you want to go back to a <em>boring old</em> ponytail, you can do that too, and still keep the braid and the rose."</p>
<p>Romani tries not to grin too sheepishly. "Ponytails aren't boring ..."</p>
<p>The girls look at each other behind his head, not at all hidden given the mirror is there. "Boring," Ritsuka asserts again, and an alarm goes off. She checks her phone and wilts ever so slightly. "Oh, yeah, I promised Leonidas I'd meet him in the gym ..."</p>
<p>"Oh!" Mash perks up. "Can I come too, Senpai?"</p>
<p>"Of course you can! You can distract him for me," Ritsuka says very seriously, and grins as Mash makes a face. "You'll be okay on your own, Doctor?"</p>
<p>"I'm not so pathetic as all <em>that</em>, am I?" Romani demands, but he's still smiling, even when Ritsuka holds up her hand with fingers just a smidge apart. "Oh, thanks a lot."</p>
<p>Okay, so <em>maybe</em> he'd been hit with some unexpected emotions this morning at waking up to realise all his hair was gone. Brains are dumb, anyway, they don't know what's good for them. At least Da Vinci had seemed to predict that he might ... Romani doesn't know if he's comforted by that or just feels more pathetic. He flaps his hands at them. "Shoo. I've got to pretend I can do <em>some</em> work today, anyway."</p>
<p>"See you later, then," says Ritsuka, waving as she moves for the door. "You'll take care of the dishes, right?"</p>
<p>"Senpai! Wait up!" Mash rushes after Ritsuka's escape, pausing only to wave, and leaves Romani eyeballing the lunch dishes in the mirror.</p>
<p>"Was that an excuse to lump me with the dishes?" he complains at the closing door, but he's <em>still </em>smiling so it's probably just as well. It'd undercut his authority if they saw it, or something. It's fine. He can deliver the dishes on his way in to the infirmary, for a given definition of 'on the way'.</p>
<p>But first —</p>
<p>Romani's heart skips a beat as he turns toward his laptop sitting open on his desk. The <span class="pwa-mark decorator">lockscreen</span>'s on, and <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Magi*Mari</span> winks at him, and this time Romani's heart pole-vaults into his mouth. What he'd been doing before the girls barged in —</p>
<p>It's fine. This is fine. Romani takes a deep breath and goes to his laptop, and it feels a little dream-like, a little detached, that small action. He'd finished writing out a message to Merlin, he remembers — remembers stalling on reading, agonising over the words, second-guessing himself and what he'd written and everything he'd ever done and felt in every lifetime he's ever had.</p>
<p>This time Romani unlocks his laptop and hits 'send' before he can even dare to think about it, and then closes the lid and goes to pick up the dishes.</p>
<p>... His hands might be trembling a little. Crap. At least the detachment means he's not actually falling apart or anything. Which would be stupid. Because there's nothing to fall apart about. Even though he could probably go to Da Vinci and ask if she can somehow get the message back before it gets seen —!!</p>
<p>
  <em>there are other things i want to say</em>
</p>
<p>"Get it together, Romani," he mutters to himself, and picks up the trays and heads out of the room, pretending that he isn't just trying to escape it. It's not escape, it's —</p>
<p>Distraction. Yeah, that's it. What's he going to do, spend the rest of the day F5ing madly? Even he knows that's stupid as well as lame. Even though he'd, y'know, done it before while waiting for <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Magi*Mari</span>'s streamed appearances to start ...</p>
<p>Had Merlin been on the other end of those, acting out her song and dance through a magical filter?</p>
<p>Romani blushes intensely and clears his throat, trying to pretend he isn't to someone passing by and looking at him curiously. Maybe he can reward himself with something for <em>not</em> checking his messages every five minutes. Something like ... strawberry shortcake. Yeah. He's heading to the kitchen anyway.</p>
<p>By the time he reaches the cafeteria he's at least calmer, sort-of, at least in the sense that he doesn't feel like someone's attached a battery to him somewhere. At least, as long as he doesn't think about what he's just done, which he unexpectedly finds easy by focusing on his breathing and his walking, and the rhythm of body — <em>his</em> body now, no <span class="pwa-mark decorator">takebacks</span>. It's something to focus on, and turns out he can still focus <em>really</em> well.</p>
<p>So well, actually, that he doesn't hear Nitocris's voice until he's already shouldering through the doors into the cafeteria, and comes face to face with Ramesses.</p>
<p><em>Oh</em>, Romani thinks, in the very act of feeling the good humour slide off his face in much the same way it does Ramesses'. Whatever indulgence had been in his expression while listening to Nitocris is immediately gone, and he says coolly, "Solomon."</p>
<p>Ah. Lovely. It's going to be like <em>that</em> with this man. To be fair, Romani wasn't expecting anything else.</p>
<p>"Ramesses," says Romani, and for once the habitual distant smile doesn't come immediately to his face; and then they're moving past each other, neither exactly in a hurry but also definitely not out to stay in one another's vicinity.</p>
<p>"<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Woooooooow</span>," says <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Tamamo</span>-Cat from the buffet table, and then she sees what's in Romani's hands and makes a face. "<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Aw</span>, man, not <em>more</em> dishes? We're still cleaning up after lunch!"</p>
<p>"These are the ones Ritsuka borrowed," Romani explains, and very carefully doesn't smile at the backtrack in <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Tamamo</span>-Cat's face.</p>
<p>"<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Aw</span>, well, I guess that's okay then. In you go!" She points cheerfully with one over-large paw, and Romani lets himself smile once he's turned away, moving through the mostly-empty hall into the kitchen. It's not exactly easy to find a place to put the trays, in the post-lunch clean-up, but he manages, and without knocking anything else over. And then loiters a little, sheepish and grumpy at once, and eyeballs Emiya, who looks entirely too focused on the dishes to be paying much attention.</p>
<p>Ugh, he doesn't like that running into just one person can tank his mood like this ...</p>
<p>This demands sweets. He's aware as he thinks it that it's probably childish, and doesn't much care, but goes to one of the fridges.</p>
<p>"Hold up," Emiya says severely from the sink. "Where do you think you're going?"</p>
<p>"I'm just seeing whether you have any shortcake," Romani protests, hand on the door-handle, and pretending he isn't cringing like he's been caught with it in the cookie jar.</p>
<p>"Well, I don't," says Emiya. "So if you want some, you'll have to make it yourself."</p>
<p>Oh! Romani brightens. "Sure, I can do that."</p>
<p>Emiya blinks and Romani laughs quietly to himself as he abandons the fridge to instead go rifling through the cupboards. "That's not what I expected," Emiya mutters, and Romani hears the clink of dishes resume, and over it Emiya continues: "You know how to cook?"</p>
<p>"Mm, a little," Romani hedges, his head in one of the cupboards. "I learned while I was studying."</p>
<p>It's not a <em>total</em> lie. He'd had to learn how to make strawberry shortcake, anyway.</p>
<p>"Got it," says Emiya as Romani withdraws with utensils. "It's a doctor thing, not a king thing."</p>
<p>"Hey," Romani grumbles, laying out his tools and then going for the ingredients. "I'll have you know I could cook just fine as a king."</p>
<p>"I've never met a king who could cook worth anything," Emiya says bluntly, and Romani turns in time to see the roll of his eyes and the twitch of his mouth toward the sink that Emiya probably thought was better hidden than it was. "Which is fair. You guys got other things to worry about."</p>
<p>"Prepare to have your mind blown, nameless archer," Romani retorts.</p>
<p>"Did that when your angel of death swept through Jerusalem," says Emiya, and Romani cringes. "If it's anything like that, I'll pass."</p>
<p>Romani laughs, a little nervously. "No, no ... nothing like that."</p>
<p>Oh, that must have hurt. At least Emiya doesn't seem like he's holding a grudge ... mostly. He just grunts and goes back to his dishes, and Romani absconds with a piece of counter that isn't being used, and one of the ovens a little further down. Already just the act of running through the ingredients is settling, and Romani murmurs to himself each one as he sets it aside before rolling up his sleeves and setting-to with the bowl and mixer.</p>
<p>Ah, this is better. It's been a long time since he's made his own — the cooks in Chaldea have always been pretty possessive about their territory. Emiya doesn't mind nearly so much, not that anyone would oppose him in this room; but with Servants and few staff, it's been necessary for him to pull random people in to help out sometimes. At least, during the Grand Order it was.</p>
<p>Not today, apparently. Actually, often not all, at this stage. There seems to be something about the dishes Emiya likes doing himself.</p>
<p>Probably not much different to what Romani's doing now, actually. It's a good distraction from — well, pretty much everything, and the fact of heart-pounding anxiety as well as awkward meetings fade away into the easy practiced assurance of building a shortcake, ingredient by ingredient. Once it's been put in the oven Romani moves around the kitchen with an idle unthinkingness, clearing up the space he'd used and filling a sink to wash his own dishes.</p>
<p>"What's that?" Emiya asks at one point and Romani looks up from the spoon he's scrubbing, broken out of his half-dream.</p>
<p>"What's what?"</p>
<p>"Whatever you were humming."</p>
<p>Romani blinks. "... I don't remember."</p>
<p>He hadn't realised he was. It's that kind of mood, right now.</p>
<p>"Hm." Emiya eyeballs him like he expects Romani to be hiding something, and then points toward the rest of the dishes on the counter. "Well, since you've already got your hands wet you can give me a hand with this while you're waiting for the shortcake to finish."</p>
<p>Either Romani had been wrong about Emiya liking the private time with his dishes, or —</p>
<p>The 'or' makes a smile settle more properly on Romani's face. "Sure."</p>
<p>It's not exactly the work he'd been <em>intending</em> to do this afternoon, but you know what. Sometimes some other things take precedence.</p>
<p>"I wanted to ask you something, anyway," Emiya adds as Romani heads over, and he cringes.</p>
<p>"Uh. Yes?"</p>
<p>"It wasn't really possible during the Grand Order," says Emiya as Romani starts filling one of the sinks nearby, "and your record doesn't say anything about it —"</p>
<p>"You've been looking at my staff record?"</p>
<p>"Ms Da Vinci's been looking at your staff record," Emiya corrects impatiently. "Look, I've been wondering if I need to start looking at things that are kosher, that's all." That is ... not even <em>remotely</em> what Romani expects, and his mouth opens and shuts as Emiya goes on, sounding grumpier by the second. "I asked some of the others about it, the ones that might have cared, but the response was generally 'eating is a luxury and supplies are limited', and apparently the Mage's Association frowns on buying extra food for all the Servants we've summoned so we’ve had to ration things among ourselves. But you're alive now, so ..."</p>
<p>For long moments Romani is silent as he washes, quick and absent in his motions, and precise in the stacking to dry. He — doesn't know what he's feeling. He's not sure it's possible to know. So ... well, maybe that's the answer?</p>
<p>"I don't know," he says at last. "I didn't — I mean, I wasn't, when I was ..." He winces. "Ah, that sounds really bad, doesn't it?"</p>
<p>"I don't have a right to judge whether it does or not," says Emiya without looking over. "That's up to you."</p>
<p>Ouch. Throwing that judgement right back, there. Romani chews his lip, resting his hands on the edge of the tub for a few minutes. "I think Malisbury made sure of it after I was incarnated," he admits. "He basically gave me a townhouse and made sure someone was around to staff it until I had any ability to take care of myself. I think that — they might have made sure the kitchen was kosher. But ... to be honest ... I didn't. After a point, I — found it freeing not to have to worry about that kind of thing." He laughs a little, half amused and half short. "After the things I've seen and done, just — worrying about some of the rituals seemed less important."</p>
<p>"And now?"</p>
<p>Romani massages his chest absently. Even when he'd been reborn, he'd been very aware of his heart, and the way it sometimes seemed to thunder. "I don't know whether I care," he says, "or just want to care. There's a lot that's happened that shouldn't be possible."</p>
<p>Does it count as blessed, still, when he's not even sure he's doing what he's supposed to? If he did start paying attention again, would he feel the shackles of obligation close around his wrists, or would he find new meaning in them? What <em>is</em> ‘supposed to’ in these circumstances? Is he serving God’s will more or less by choosing to exercise his free will, which is his right to begin with?</p>
<p>He doesn’t know, and these are things he hasn’t had the courage to air, and no one really to air them <em>to</em>, all bundled up in a mess of grief and bitter hurt.</p>
<p>"Well, I can't speak for you," Emiya observes, and the dishes clink as he sets a few more into the sink. "But it seems to me that you didn't get much chance to decide whether you <em>want</em> to care the first time around. So how are you going to know <em>this</em> time, unless you give it a second look?"</p>
<p>Ah, and somehow Emiya just cuts to that chase. Romani can't help but laugh softly, shaking his head. "I snapped at Martha for offering to pray for me, you know," he admits. "I'm not sure that ..."</p>
<p>"You have that right?"</p>
<p><em>Now</em> Emiya's looking at him, all sidelong past his brow, and Romani hisses a little through his teeth, wincing. "It's complicated," he says.</p>
<p>"Yeah?"</p>
<p>"I was born Jewish. That right's inherent. It's not something I can choose or not choose, and kosher observance doesn't change that. Lack of observation just makes me a really <em>bad</em> Jew."</p>
<p>"Then what's the complication?" Emiya asks with a frown.</p>
<p>"I'm not sure I want that attention," Romani answers simply, because that's what it comes down to: he's not sure he <em>wants</em> to have his Lord's eye drawn to him. He's not sure he <em>wants</em> to have his feelings, his plights, laid before Him in that kind of way — he's not sure he wants to even get <em>close</em> to that. And that’s just ignoring the intersections of Root and God and whatever other arguments are to be made about existence or lack of it, on an objective level.</p>
<p>Romani just … doesn’t want to get into any of that. Not until he begins to untangle the mess of everything else he barely knows how to acknowledge is there, let alone articulate. It's one thing to try and accept Mash's suggestion, that it was him because it had to be him, because he's the only one who could have come out the other side of that kind of clairvoyance still intact. It's another to apply it, and to face it, and all the rights and responsibilities he has as a living human.</p>
<p>Emiya grunts, and Romani realises belatedly that he's been quiet for too long, still for too long.</p>
<p>"Well," says Emiya, "we have a few Jews around, and we have a lot of staff back, and I think it's about time we got this place to be properly multicultural, anyway. Whichever way you decide, at least you'll <em>have</em> the choice."</p>
<p>He says it with an air of finality that doesn't require an answer, which is pretty good, because Romani isn't sure he has one. It takes him another minute to resume his own washing, mostly because he's trying to stop the sting in his eyes and the lump in his throat from turning into something else.</p><hr/>
<p>At least between them, and with their silent, maybe-companionable silence, the dishes get done in record time, even with <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Tamamo</span>-Cat cheerfully coming in to dump more empties from the buffet table in their lineup. The stack is significantly smaller by the time the oven alarm goes off, and Romani turns to dry his hands, thankfully now having some control of himself.</p>
<p>And finds, hunkered in front of the oven and peering through the glass, a pair of young girls with identical hungry expressions on their faces. The third with them hovers a few steps back, looking torn between being right there with them and like she's supposed to be guarding them from being caught, and doing so poorly. She jumps when Romani laughs, gripping her lance, and it's only when she looks at him with big worried eyes and a moue that Romani realises —</p>
<p>Oh, crap. <em>There's another one.</em></p>
<p>"Um." The small version of Jeanne tugs on Alice's braid without looking away from Romani.</p>
<p>"It's almost <em>done</em>," Alice moans in response, and does not budge.</p>
<p>"<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Mhm</span>." Jack nods. "Almost time to cut all up."</p>
<p>Romani clears his throat, standing over them with one hand on his hip and resisting the mad urge to laugh. They added a third? Ibaraki wasn't enough? — Wait. His head snaps around to the door.</p>
<p>"You're good," Emiya calls. "I've got my oni defence mechanism up and running."</p>
<p>"What's that one entail?"</p>
<p>"Bowl of jaw-cracking boiled candy in the rec-room."</p>
<p>Romani laughs before he can help himself, almost helpless with it. The only thing that'd work better is macaroons, but they'd be gone in an instant. "Well, if you'll let me through I can release the poor shortcake from its prison," he says at the backs of Alice and Jack's heads, and just like that they scatter, bouncing on either side of the oven so he can get in between them with a pair of gloves. The small Jeanne doesn't seem quite as assured, so Romani smiles at her. "It's fine. Really."</p>
<p>"Really?" she asks in a small voice.</p>
<p>"I probably couldn't have eaten this all myself." It's a total lie, he absolutely could have, and <em>would</em> have — so it's just as well for his integrity as a doctor that he can't, as long as there's hungry-eyed children around. Jack actually moans a little as Romani removes the shortcake and sets it on a mat on the counter.</p>
<p>"You know, this is <em>supposed</em> to cool for a while," he says, struggling to sound severe and utterly failing because he keeps smiling instead.</p>
<p>"<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Noooooo</span>." Alice bounces on her toes again. "Hot cakes, best cakes!"</p>
<p>"Good on cold nights, best on winter nights," Jack chants.</p>
<p>"With hot chocolate?" ventures small Jeanne hopefully.</p>
<p>"It's too early in the day for hot chocolate," says Emiya, and apparently he's had a lot of practice with his severe tone, because he's a lot better at it.</p>
<p>"Awwww ..."</p>
<p>"Don't 'aw' at me." Emiya points toward the card table at the far end of the kitchen, the one Romani had assumed was set up for him for that breakfast a few days ago. No, it seems like it's just a feature. "Go on, set up if you want some, since the doctor-king's being nice."</p>
<p>In a flurry of long hair and ribbons the three of them dash to the table and the lower cupboards there, and Romani winces as plates and cutlery clink just a little too loud to be really reassuring. "I get the impression this happens a lot."</p>
<p>"It happens," says Emiya, and when Romani looks sidelong at him past the fluff of his new fringe he catches Emiya looking indulgently fond, and with a faint, faint smile. "Jeanne <span class="pwa-mark decorator">d'Arc</span> Santa Alter Lily —" Romani does not quite manage to swallow his laugh, but mostly makes it into a cough too soft to be heard over the good-natured arguing down the end of the room. Emiya nods ruefully. "<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Lily Jeanne</span> was a trick, of a sort."</p>
<p>"Let me guess," says Romani, "something to do with Jeanne Alter's rivalry with Artoria Alter."</p>
<p>"Yep," Emiya agrees. "Jeanne Alter figured if Artoria could be a Santa, so could she, but she had the poor sense to go to Kid Gil about it. Lucky for us. Jeanne <span class="pwa-mark decorator">d'Arc</span> Santa Alter Lily was the result — the manifestation of Jeanne d'Arc's heart's wish, made possible by her Alter's spite."</p>
<p>Romani glances toward the end of the room, and watches as Jeanne Lily pompously directs where plates should be laid, very carefully setting her own and correcting it with a fussy need to Make Things Right.</p>
<p>"That kind of wish doesn't stay manifested without something behind it," he observes quietly.</p>
<p>"No," says Emiya. "It sure doesn't." He turns, unfolding his arms. "If you get the the cream and cake ready, I'll get one of the liquid nitrogen canisters. We can crisp it up a little."</p>
<p>If it were anyone else, that sentence would be kind of alarming; but on the whole Romani knows Emiya knows a lot more about cooking than he does, so he turns to cut and build the shortcake, very carefully, while it's still pretty hot. A couple of careful sprays on the completed cake turns its outside to a still peaceful construct, sparkling faintly in the light with delicate not-quite-ice, as if a layer of snow-frost has been left on it.</p>
<p>Romani picks it up carefully to take over to the card table. "I hope you're in the mood for shortcake," he tells the children as he sets it down, "because if we stick this in the fridge now, it's going to get soggy — so we'd better eat the whole thing."</p>
<p>"Yay!" Alice lifts her fists in victory and reaches eagerly for a fork, while Emiya passes Romani a knife.</p>
<p>Romani snags his arm before he can turn away. "Hey. Where do you think you're going? I'm gonna blow your mind, remember."</p>
<p>Emiya crosses his arms with the impression of an eye-roll that doesn't happen, and a stern face that isn't as stern as his voice pretends to be. "Fine. Just remember to cut a piece for <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Tamamo</span>-Cat, will you? Otherwise I'll have to listen to her whining all afternoon."</p>
<p>"Just a tick." Very carefully, Romani splits the cake into six mostly-equal portions, and hands one off to the plate Emiya holds out to be set aside. "Okay. Who's first?"</p>
<p>"ME!" all three of them shout in unison, and laughing Romani instead serves himself and Emiya, and pushes the plate toward them so none of them are put above the others. They fall on the shortcake like hungry — well, hungry little girls craving a sugar fix, and Romani takes a seat to lean back and savour his long-awaited shortcake more slowly. Ah, they hadn't had any strawberries, near the end; and it's been even longer than that since he's made this himself.</p>
<p>The first bite is the best — it always is. He's still got it; that's good to know. But he's pretty sure there's a tingle of magic on his tongue, making more of everything the shortcake already is. Ah, well, he thinks ruefully. He sometimes did have trouble keeping ambient magic out of things if he was focused on them to a significant degree ... guess that wasn't just the fault of the rings.</p>
<p>"This is the <em>best</em>," small Jeanne gasps, in the manner of someone having to come up for air, and Romani laughs again, softer, for the cream around her mouth and the fact her cake is half gone already. Jack's almost is. The only contribution she has is to nod madly with her mouth full, and even though she looks somewhat different — too pale, too all-over white — she looks almost the same as Maria had in the Singularity-that-wasn't, the first time Romani had summoned her and given her food.</p>
<p>It makes Romani's heart twinge wistfully, but not enough to steal his smile. "Thank you." He licks cream off his fork and glances sidelong toward Emiya, who's staring down at his partly-eaten shortcake with an expression somewhere between offence, bafflement and thoughtfulness. "Mind blown yet?"</p>
<p>Emiya grunts, and stabs the shortcake with his fork. "You can't have learned how to bake like this just while you were studying. Med school is gruelling. This kind of skill takes time and effort."</p>
<p>"Mm." Romani can <em>feel</em> his smile turn rueful, doesn't know how to stop it. "To be honest, I've always had a talent for cooking. I never did it as a king in my palace, but when Asmodeus threw me out of Jerusalem I wound up in the kitchen belonging to a neighbouring ruler for a while. To be honest, I always just assumed it was one of those clairvoyant things ... you know, a gift from God like all the rest, and so forth. But when I was reborn and ventured into the kitchen, I found that — it hadn't gone away with everything else."</p>
<p>He doesn't have words to describe how it felt the first time he'd cooked something for himself, and realised that it <em>tasted good</em>; not just good but great, better than anything the housekeeper could do — and she had been a good cook herself. It'd be one of those times emotion had hit him like a freight truck ... he doesn't even remember what he'd made, but he remembers sobbing over it while he ate. That had happened the first few times he'd made anything himself, until the sharp edges of emotions had worn off.</p>
<p>He doesn't have words to explain the thunderstruck awe that he could create something, and create it well, without the need for someone else's instruction. That there was value inherent in him he’d never realised was there, divorced of any overt blessings or gifts.</p>
<p>... Damn it, now his eyes are feeling damp. They hadn't even had the courtesy to sting warningly first. He shoves a fork-full of shortcake into his mouth, hoping Emiya doesn't notice.</p>
<p>"If that's true," Emiya says slowly, "why didn't you go into cooking, as a career? Why'd you become a doctor?"</p>
<p>Romani shoots him a look sidelong, and he's looking down at his plate in a way that says he's concentrating hard on it. <em>Please</em> say that's because the food's just that good, and not because he saw Romani getting choked up. ... Not that the question is much better.</p>
<p>"Because I don't love it," Romani admits, and waves vaguely toward the three giggling children and the table, and the demolished shortcake. "I enjoy this, every now and then — I enjoy remembering that I <em>can</em>, and that it's good. And there was a while there I did consider it. But ... in the end ... food is a fleeting pleasure. A starving man doesn't notice that a cut of beef is wagyu, or care that caviar is expensive. He cares that his belly is filled. I wanted — to give people more than a brief experience with a five-star meal. I wanted to help them become the best they can be, with the bodies and minds they have, so they<em> can keep</em> experiencing these little fleeting pleasures. That's what I wanted ... more than anything."</p>
<p>He looks down at his plate again, his throat tight while he blinks away dampness, and fusses with scraping up all the little bits of cream with the last strawberry.</p>
<p>"Is that what you studied in med-school?" Emiya asks. "Nutrition?" Romani laughs, a quiet short thing, scattered because he's trying not to get his emotions all over <em>everything</em> again.</p>
<p>"No. Well, I did a little. But ... when I looked at the news, I kept seeing unrest in the Middle East. In my homeland." Scrape, scrape, scrape. He can't really even see the plate now. "There were ordinary people there — embroiled in never-ending conflicts that weren't their fault. Children being injured by bombs and guns. So I went into trauma surgery instead." He huffs. "It might have been stupid ... Malisbury already guaranteed me a position at Chaldea when I graduated. We're a long way away from those conflicts. But, I thought — if he achieved his goals, and teams started going to other eras — there's always a war on. Everywhere. Every era."</p>
<p>"People in past conflicts didn't have doctors," says Emiya, and Romani shakes his head.</p>
<p>"No. They didn't."</p>
<p>He falls quiet and concentrates on thoroughly creaming the strawberry on his fork and then eating it slowly, until the lump in his throat has been pushed down a little more and he's pretty sure he's not going to actually cry. Emiya mostly doesn't interrupt him, and Romani's pretty sure now that Emiya <em>knows</em> emotions are happening; but he waits until Romani's a little more together before he says anything else.</p>
<p>"That's probably the difference between kings and soldiers, huh." When Romani looks, Emiya's gazing with distant thoughtfulness toward the three girls, giggling madly and trying to smear cream on each other's faces. "You think in bigger scales, all the time. Even when you're not ruling anything. Me — I'm content giving people those fleeting pleasures."</p>
<p>"Sometimes I wish I could be content with that," says Romani softly, his throat tightening again. "Sometimes, I think I even convinced myself that I was." He smiles ruefully. "Ah, that's just another form of cowardice, I guess."</p>
<p>"You aren't a coward," says Emiya shortly, and Romani can't tell if his tone is impatience or the act of fighting the instinct in all of the Servants which condemns him. "We don't call an abused dog a coward for being afraid of being hit, if it's all they've known."</p>
<p>Romani laughs softly, unbidden. It rasps in his throat, not exactly mirthful, but in some sense wryly amused. "Ah, I'm not sure how I feel about that comparison."</p>
<p>It doesn't exactly fit. He was never abused ...</p>
<p>... He wants to say. But when someone's been denied so thoroughly, maybe — maybe, in some ways, it counts. But in others, maybe ...</p>
<p>Romani thinks of the ever-glowing menorah left behind in the palace-that-wasn't, and Merlin's act of reaching back in the same fashion his younger self had reached forward, and his chest feels tight; but this time for warmth. He skirts around the path through those facts, what they might mean, the fact they can and do exist in concert; shies away from applying them to the power that's been behind his life all this time —</p>
<p>He thinks of Merlin, and the rose in his hair, and the braid that does not cut, and it's enough.</p>
<p>"That's a better look on you," says Emiya abruptly, and pushes off the counter to go and collect the plates from the girls. Romani doesn't know what he means for a moment, and then realises his cheeks ache, that he's smiling; and when Emiya comes around to collect his plate last Romani's laughing softly instead.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Now hearing concerns</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It turns out that Romani doesn't actually get away from the kitchen before dinner. By the time they've finished washing the dishes from the shortcake, it seems churlish to abandon Emiya to the rest from lunch; and then Emiya announces it's time to start cooking dinner, and somehow Romani never actually leaves. It's not a bad way of seeing how the kitchen functions, though. The way Emiya commands his domain with ease and familiarity. How people drift in and out looking for snacks Emiya always seems to have on hand, even the non-Servants. So much for 'the Mage's Association doesn't like them ordering extra food'. Romani has to wonder if all the cooks quit once they saw a Servant had taken over.</p>
<p>Artoria, the original, is one of the raiders; and she looks at Romani long and speculatively while Emiya fetches the platter of sandwiches he apparently habitually makes for the voracious appetite belonging to the once and future king.</p>
<p>"Yes, King Artoria?" Romani asks politely, because frankly that's getting <em>uncomfortable</em>, and he can't turn to face her because he's mixing something, so it's hard not to let the space between his shoulder-blades itch.</p>
<p>"I wondered if I'd remember you now you've been released," she says, thoughtful and slow, and not at all shifting her gaze; and a cold shiver runs up Romani's spine so hard that he fumbles the spoon. "I think you'd rather if I didn't."</p>
<p>Romani swallows hard and mostly tastes ashes in his mouth, in his nose — the shadow of a memory of a Grail War superseded by so many other things that had occurred afterward. Whenever they spoke of Fuyuki, it had always been the Singularity — not the other thing. "I think you're right." He stirs more vigorously, wondering if he wants to know, then deciding he doesn't, he <em>doesn't</em> — "Do you?"</p>
<p>Damn it.</p>
<p>"Perhaps," she says slowly. "Like a dream of something I saw happen once ... I remember being glad you won."</p>
<p>Romani hunches his shoulders, and then forces them back with a slow exhale. "Why?"</p>
<p>"The Master who summoned me did so because he had Excalibur's sheath and had a long bloodline tracing only to England," says Artoria with a shrug Romani barely sees out of the corner of his eye. "But he wasn't worthy of me — or the grail. That, I remember."</p>
<p>Well.</p>
<p>... It's better than the pain of dying again, he supposes. True, that happens a lot here, when they get <span class="pwa-mark decorator">discorporated</span> battling on Ritsuka's behalf; but it's different. Generally Romani thinks it's a kindness that most Heroic Spirits don't remember much of the wars where they're forcibly pitted against one another for the sake of the living's greed. At least here, in Chaldea, they're giving their temporary lives in the service of something. It makes a difference, to some.</p>
<p>A small hand falls on his arm to stop him stirring, and Romani looks over with a blink to find Artoria standing by him, and looking up very seriously. "You <em>were</em> avoiding me, weren't you?" she asked. "As the doctor, you were avoiding me. I noticed — but I thought it was the unease of a living Brit to a dead legend." Her brow crinkles slightly. "And, of course, I felt no desire to change that, for ... other reasons.."</p>
<p>Romani swallowed. "I was. And it wasn't."</p>
<p>Heracles had, frankly, terrified him. He'd Seen what that man could do, unleashed — a future of the war which had never come to pass, luckily. But Romani had Seen it, as a Servant, had ensured it wouldn't happen, and had always remembered. Every time he passes Heracles now he can't help but flinch. The rest who'd been there — not ordinary; no Heroic Spirit is ordinary. But, for him, there had been a few ...</p>
<p>Sometimes he wonders if he was one of those 'few' for someone else, whether it's more of a blow for the impact of terror and guilt not having gone both ways —</p>
<p>But, of course, they didn't remember. He had thought.</p>
<p>She pats his arm. "You don't need to avoid me anymore. In fact, I'd prefer you didn't."</p>
<p>Romani manages to find a smile from somewhere, and it doesn't feel terribly convincing, but it's better than the blank one which still comes too readily to his face. "I'm flattered?"</p>
<p>"Hm." Her brow crinkles again, her mouth drawing straight. "It's more that I dislike something else deciding for me whether to be attentive to someone's needs or not."</p>
<p>Oh, it's that again. Romani can't help but laugh softly. "That seems to be a recurring sentiment. You don't — have to be concerned for my sake, if that helps."</p>
<p><em>This isn't your kingdom</em>, he doesn't say.</p>
<p>"Maybe I'm concerned for Mash's." Her mouth turns up, just a smidge. "Maybe I'm just a fan." Romani laughs. "Don't laugh. I'm serious."</p>
<p>"Ah, I prefer fan to worshipper," Romani acknowledges, and pauses in his stirring again to glance sideways, thoughtfully. He's thinking of Georgios, but now he's said that ... "If it comes up in conversation, please tell your knights they really don't have to bow." He's fairly sure there had been an edge of deprecating in Tristan's, in the Singularity; and with Lancelot it's just ... awkward. For multiple reasons. But trying to imagine Gawain or, worse, <em>Bedivere</em>, one of his regular patients —</p>
<p>There's one thing to say for Mordred: at least she won't be bowing at him any sooner than she had before.</p>
<p>"I'll let them know," Artoria says, "if you do a favour for me."</p>
<p>A <em>favour</em>, hm? Now they're getting technical. Nevertheless, Romani finds his smile settling more truly on his face as he resumes stirring. "Such as?"</p>
<p>"What are your intentions toward Merlin?"</p>
<p>Romani fumbles the stirring, and picks batter off the edge of the bowl and his arm, his face suddenly very hot. "Um ..."</p>
<p>"I know he was here," Artoria continues, "in the command-room, while Master was retrieving you. He avoided me, I think. I don't know whether he believes I'll condemn him for his inaction or he's afraid that I won't."</p>
<p>More and more, her voice becomes dissatisfied, but when Romani glances toward her again, her expression is more a frown of worry than anger. It hits him, very suddenly, that this might either be the 'testing a family member's partner's worthiness' <em>or</em> 'confiding in a peer regarding a mutual loved one' and Romani has <em>no idea which one it is</em>.</p>
<p>"Are you asking because you'd like me to pass on a message, or ...?" Romani ventures, glancing back toward the bowl and keeping an eye on the shine of light off counters, walls, and utensils. Any rainbows? Anything? Any guidance at all? No? <em>Fat lot of help You are.</em></p>
<p>"No," Artoria says, more slowly even than before, and Romani wonders suddenly whether slowness is thought or uncertainty. "I ..." She chews on her lip and then realises she's doing it, and falls back into relative impassivity. Then she takes a deep breath, and seems to realise her hand is still on Romani's arm, and moves it, her gaze skating across him — and Romani realises he's not the only one in this conversation feeling the awkwardness. That's ... almost a relief, actually.</p>
<p>Even he can forget Heroic Spirits are people too. Even kings. Even heroes.</p>
<p>
  <em>What of Gilgamesh?</em>
</p>
<p>Romani sets down the spoon and turns to give her his full attention, leaning back against the counter, half turned to keep them somewhat more private from the rest of the kitchen. "Artoria?" he asks as gently as he knows how. "Are you worried about Merlin?"</p>
<p>She nods without turning, her hands resting flat on the counter and eyes distant into the reflection of the wall. "I haven't seen him," she says, almost inaudibly. "I would be hurt if I didn't understand why." Her brow furrows. "... Perhaps I am a little, even so. I remember that he showed me what would happen. And I remember that I made the same choice, even as I asked to forget. If he's avoiding me out of guilt, then he's taking on a burden that isn't his to bear, and denying me the chance to remind him."</p>
<p>"Or slap him upside the head?" Romani suggests dryly, and sees for an instant the deep pull of her mouth upward before she puts it away. "I sent him a message," Romani says, which he hadn't <em>meant</em> to say — but there it is. "We were talking, before, through our own channels. I don't know <em>what</em> will happen, anymore, but —" He swallows hard. "I don't want to leave the path unwalked just because it looked too shadowed. At least ... at least I'll have tried."</p>
<p>She listens quietly without turning, and then nods. "I hope he answers you," she says quietly, and in a way that makes whatever had been blushing in Romani suddenly chill uncomfortably. "I truly do. But — I fear for what it means if he doesn't."</p>
<p>The chill becomes icy, and the tap of a footstep makes Artoria turn, dry-eyed and even-keeled.</p>
<p>"Found it," says Emiya, and pauses, his gaze darting quick between them; but he's smart enough, thankfully, to realise that whatever he interrupted is now <em>interrupted</em>, and highlighting that would only make things super awkward. "Seems like <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Tamamo</span>-Cat put it somewhere out of reach of hungry children."</p>
<p>"Thank you." There isn't exactly a smile on Artoria's mouth as she takes the tray, but almost — close enough to call it one. She nods to Romani. "Doctor. I look forward to seeing you around. Perhaps ... perhaps you'll have better luck than I will."</p>
<p>Romani isn't able to find any words, so he just raises his hand as she leaves, feeling cold in her wake. Emiya takes one look at his face and nods to himself, and points to the bowl behind him. "Well? That's not going to mix itself, you know. If you're in my kitchen, you're neither a doctor nor a king, so get on it."</p>
<p>Romani nods automatically, and he can feel the distant smile settling, and this time can't do anything about it. "On it."</p>
<p>He turns toward the bowl, and picks up the spoon.</p>
<hr/>
<p>By the time dinner is done, Romani is aware that he could be said to be <em>hiding</em>. With a great effort of will he refuses Emiya's unspoken sidelong question regarding the dishes, and leaves the kitchen. He hadn't meant to skip a whole day of catch-up, but now his nerves are jangling and he knows, he <em>knows</em>, sleep isn't going to happen easily. He may as well go into the infirmary and take advantage of the quiet to get some work done.</p>
<p>He's on his way there with his laptop in hand, frowning down at nothing, when Da Vinci's shoulder nudges his and she falls into step beside him. "Romani~! Fancy meeting you here."</p>
<p>"Hm?" Romani looks up and looks around with bemusement at the utterly innocuous hall. "Where?"</p>
<p>"Oh, just here," says Da Vinci cheerfully, a tone which does not at all match her narrow-eyed expression. "<em>I</em> thought you were going to camp out in the kitchen all night."</p>
<p>"I didn't mean to," Romani grumbles. "It was fun."</p>
<p>"Hm, well, as long as it was that," acknowledges Da Vinci, but the way she looks at him suggests she doesn't believe it was.</p>
<p>"If I was trying to avoid something, I'd still be in there," Romani objects to things she hasn't said, and her eyes widen.</p>
<p>"Did I say anything about that?"</p>
<p>"You were thinking it."</p>
<p>"I was," she agrees shamelessly, and despite himself and everything Romani laughs, albeit a softly sighing laugh. "<em>Is</em> there something you were trying to avoid?"</p>
<p>"I messaged Merlin this morning," Romani admits, and his heart gives a great big thump.</p>
<p>"<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Ahhhh</span>." Da Vinci nods. "And you were seeking out distractions, and accidentally got absconded into kitchen duty, because Emiya is a decently perceptive person."</p>
<p>"Something like that," Romani says.</p>
<p>"And since you're wired about that, you aren't going to sleep much, so you're catching up on the work you didn't do instead."</p>
<p>"If you already know all these answers, why did you start out like you were about to read me the riot act?"</p>
<p>"Every mystery needs a key, Romani," Da Vinci answers pertly, and waves with a waggle of her fingers as they come to a hall that splits her workshop from the infirmary. "I <em>will</em> message you at midnight and at two to make sure you're getting <em>some</em> sleep."</p>
<p>"Thanks," says Romani, and it comes out sarcastic but he actually does mean it. They part and by the time Romani reaches the infirmary he already has his laptop open and nestled in the crook of his arm, trying to catch up on anything he absolutely shouldn't have missed during the day so he’ll know what his staff is talking about when they come to him as he walks in.</p>
<p>Not much, as it transpires, but a few things. The <span class="pwa-mark decorator">environmentals</span> are still rolling through effective blackouts. Da Vinci filled him in on that over lunch yesterday, and they're mostly working — it just means people need to schedule their showers according to area and avoid certain outer halls and rooms. Some people's showers have opted to give up the ghost no matter what, but there's no instance of anything life-threatening, or even digit-threatening, in the form of frostnip. That's good.</p>
<p>Da Vinci's latest report is waiting for him at his desk when he gets there, along with a bunch of other things to go through, and for several hours Romani doesn't have to think about Merlin, feelings, or Artoria's ominous words. He does, at one stage, briefly wish he'd been able to keep more of the shortcake for himself, because he really could have used a sugar boost partway through the night — but it'd been worth it, to see three deprived young girls enjoying it too. Anyway, Emiya demanded Romani show him the recipe, so there'll be other chances ...</p>
<p>At which point Romani stops thinking about that, because there's emotions in that direction and that's what he's trying to avoid.</p>
<p>At about one-thirty he comes up for air, checks the clock, and realises Da Vinci is due to send him another message soon. It's tempting — it's <em>so</em> tempting — to keep working until then, but his eyes feel gritty and his mind feels like sludge, even accounting for physical optimisation. Romani bows to necessity and messages Da Vinci to let her know he's going to bed, and pushes his chair back to stretch, long and cracking. Yep, time for a break.</p>
<p>Maybe Merlin's replied by now.</p>
<p>Romani's heart skips a beat at the thought, and his hand hovers toward the mouse, toward the account-switch menu —</p>
<p>Oh, but what if he hasn't? Then Romani will be worried and disappointed.</p>
<p>What if he <em>has</em>? Romani might need the time to figure out what he wants to say ... he really definitely shouldn't try to come up with responses with his brain feeling like this.</p>
<p>Romani hisses through his teeth and winds up closing the laptop, because even though he desperately wants to know, he's not sure he can handle either eventuality right now. It feels a little cowardly again, shying away from the truth, but he's probably justified in this instance, right?</p>
<p>Even so, when he gets back to his room he opens his laptop again, nervy and torn and hating himself, just a little, that he's incapable of making a decision and sticking with it —</p>
<p>His laptop dings with a message back from Da Vinci.</p>
<p>
  <em>good night, Romani</em>
</p>
<p>And then, two seconds later:</p>
<p>
  <em>ACTUALLY SLEEP. don't stare at your laptop for the rest of it.</em>
</p>
<p>"Rude," Romani mutters, but he's half laughing, because he almost, almost did exactly that. "Fine, fine." He shuts it down without going back into his other account, the one where he'd written all those words and hadn't logged out properly; the one where, if he went into it again, the first thing he'd see is his messages.</p>
<p>Well, now he can't. Shaking his head, Romani closes the lid and gets up to make himself ready for bed and fall into it. In the morning, he promises himself. In the morning, he'll look. That gives Merlin a few extra hours, too.</p>
<p>In the morning, he'll know.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. That one parental talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is NSFW, involving frank discussions of sex.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Merlin has <em>not</em> replied. Romani stares down at his laptop screen, feeling vaguely betrayed. He'd slept restlessly and woken with a start, lain there for several moments before remembering —</p><p>Almost vaulted out of bed with the surge of adrenaline the reminder had brought him, and not quite been able to tear himself away from the laptop in the brief period it booted, not even to do something more helpful, like figure out what he's going to wear. Vlad had delivered some additional clothes sometime yesterday afternoon, which means Romani has a bit of a spread now Gilgamesh isn't trying to stab holes in any of them; and he’d been awake enough last night to notice one of them was even a long coat, not exactly like the ones he'd used to have, but <em>nearly</em>.</p><p>Even the lure of that hadn't been enough to bring him away from the loading screen.</p><p>And now after all that build-up, there’s just ... nothing. Vainly Romani F5s as if there's somehow a message hiding in cyberspace that refuses to show, and then a few more times just out of spiteful frustration, and then gives up and gets up to get ready for his day.</p><p>Should he send another one? Maybe Merlin didn't see the first. Or maybe he's deep in dreams and just hasn't had a chance to see the first one yet. Maybe Romani should give it another day ... he doesn't want to be <em>that person</em> who can't bear to wait for a while. Yeah, he'll give it another day. Merlin probably has a lot of dreams to play with; just because he lives in a tower doesn't mean he's waiting every second on his whatever-he-uses. He's probably doing something else.</p><p>Even still, Romani feels vaguely nettled and worried when he leaves his room for breakfast, and when he gets to the infirmary and logs on to his work account he finds an IM from Da Vinci saying simply:</p><p>
  <em>anything?</em>
</p><p><em>no,</em> Romani types, and then changes his mind. <em>not yet</em></p><p>There. That's more — positive. More hopeful. Nailed it. And now, for distractions. Distractions like ... paperwork. Yay. And scheduling. Double yay.</p><p>He toils away at all this for a few hours, but it's <em>hard</em>, and not much of a distraction. All it really does is keep his hands busy, and make him have to drag his mind back to these decisions he's supposed to be making, or make excuses to get up and find something else to do. The staff still keeps doughnuts in one of the fridges ... yep. Just a small snack break. And a coffee break. All good.</p><p>Maybe there's a patient that needs seeing —</p><p>"Doctor?"</p><p>Romani turns, pretending he's not in the act of stealing another doughnut, and relaxes when he sees Ritsuka, looking amused and uncertain in the doorway to the lab. "Ritsuka! When was your last checkup?"</p><p>"Uh ..." She blinks, and then looks thoughtful. "Well, I had one after Shinjuku ..." As she should have. <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Leyshifting</span> is still technically experimental, and Singularities not totally even recognised as real, so he'd made a point of a medical check after every single one. It's good to know they'd continued with that. "... but in all the fuss with you coming back I don't think I got more than a super fast one after Jerusalem."</p><p>"Great." Romani nods, licking off his fingers, and picks up his coffee. "Then, I'm declaring it's time for you to have a checkup."</p><p>"<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Whyyy</span>?" Ritsuka drags out the word suspiciously.</p><p>"Because I'm <em>bored</em>," Romani whines, and Ritsuka bursts into peals of giggles, and Romani grins crookedly. "No, really. I'm so tired of paperwork. Half the medical wing's senior staff left after the Incineration was averted, so now I'm playing catch up with the resulting patchwork. Come on." He <span class="pwa-mark decorator">noogies</span> her head with the bottom of his coffee-mug as he passes, heading toward an exam room.</p><p>"I <em>guess</em>," she says, all long-suffering teenager, and Romani grins without turning as he hears her follow. "Anyway, I had some things I wanted to ask."</p><p>Ah, was this going to be another conversation like that other one, where she was afraid they'd brought him back to something worse? Romani ushers her into the exam room and closes the door, setting down his mug. "Go for it."</p><p>"Can I have some of your doughnut?" she asks promptly as she hops up to sit on the table, and Romani laughs self-deprecatingly, but breaks it in two and hands her the slightly larger piece. "Thank you~"</p><p>"You're welcome," Romani answers, amused despite himself, and leans back against the counter to drink his coffee and eat his half. "<em>That's</em> not what you came to ask, I hope. Emiya's got plenty of goodies in the kitchen. I saw them all yesterday."</p><p>Ritsuka shakes her head in a flurry of hair and a full mouth, kicking her feet. "You said the other day I could ask you any questions I had, about anything, and ... well ..."</p><p>Romani's brow furrows. He does remember saying that, but what had the context been, again —? Something about his wardrobe — no, that wasn't it. It'd been about — magazines, and —</p><p>"... and Da Vinci said this morning that I should probably ask you for a sex talk."</p><p>Romani chokes on his coffee and coughs half-restrained, trying not to either inhale fluid or send it everywhere. Right. Right, he'd said it about — <em>those </em>kinds of magazines — and Ritsuka still looks terribly, awfully shifty, sitting there on the exam bed.</p><p>"Well," Romani manages after a minute, sounding a bit strangled and a bit raw at once, thanks to hot coffee almost down his trachea. "You said you'd looked some things up on the internet ...?"</p><p>"Sorta," Ritsuka admits. "I mean, there wasn't really an internet while humanity was incinerated, so mostly I found a few things on the facility intranet." Romani makes a mental note to find out who might have been storing porn on <em>Chaldean networks</em>. "And then I looked up some stuff after the world came back, but ..." She motions with the part of the doughnut still in her hand. "There's <em>so much stuff</em>."</p><p>"There sure is," Romani agrees, feeling slightly manic. "You said Da Vinci suggested this <em>this morning</em>?"</p><p>"Uh huh." Ritsuka nodded, eyeballing him uncertainly. "She didn't seem to think it'd be a bad time?"</p><p>"It's not," Romani assures her, and makes another, separate mental note to figure out whether he wants to strangle Da Vinci or make her chocolate. "Has she shown you any diagrams?"</p><p>"She showed me the Vitruvian Man," says Ritsuka with a shrug, "but that's not really about sexual organs, is it? It's about good art. Most of the diagrams she has are about good art. Anyway, I'm not all that interested in penises."</p><p>"Thank goodness for that," Romani mutters, and clears his throat, backtracking. "Not that it'd be bad if you were, just —"</p><p>"It'd make things kind of complicated?" Ritsuka suggests.</p><p>"Little bit." Romani smiles at her wryly and shakes his head. "Okay. Two important questions, then. Firstly, how much of a sex education did you get in school before you came to Chaldea? And secondly, does asking about this have more to do with reading scandalous doujinshi, or Mash?"</p><p>Ritsuka's face reddens hard and fast, and so intensely it clashes with her hair. It doesn't always show, thanks to her Japanese parent's genes — but it sure does right then. Romani sips his coffee and raises his eyebrows in silent expectation while she hunches in, blushing.</p><p>"B-oth?" she tries, and then shakes her head, laughing nervously. "It's not — I mean. Gah." She blows out a breath and shoves the last bit of her doughnut in her mouth, and Romani lets her have that distance to finish his own, lick off his fingers, and start moving around the room to gather those few things he needs for a basic exam. Mmm, she's probably due for a blood test soon-ish, but that'll have to be scheduled. He'll check.</p><p>By the time Romani turns around again Ritsuka looks a little more composed, but still red, and still tugging on her sideways pigtail. "It's not <em>really</em> about Mash," she says finally, "but in the way of <em>not yet</em>, you know? Mash is ..." Her eyes narrowed at him. "... well, she knows a lot less about sex than even <em>I</em> do."</p><p>"Yeah, she does," Romani agrees, and refuses to shrink at her gaze, refuses to feel bad for this. There's reasons. Maybe his reasons weren't always good, but there <em>are</em> reasons, and he's had this conversation with Da Vinci already. "That's because I never talked to her about sex."</p><p>"I thought you didn't," Ritsuka admits. "She knows what it is, I think, but only sort-of. And I guess ... I mean, during the whole Incineration ... there wasn't really a chance for conversations like that, huh? Especially with how her health was." Romani drinks his coffee, and says nothing, and Ritsuka gazes down at the floor, her brow furrowed in utmost conversation. "The thing is ... things change, you know? And I'd like to have the knowledge to make sure they change in good ways." Her eyes narrow at him again. "Why are you smiling?"</p><p>He is. Romani tries to put it away, and probably does a bad job, judging by the way her mouth pulls up. "I'm proud, that's all," he admits, "and happy, that Mash has a friend like you."</p><p>Maybe not a girlfriend — <em>yet</em>. Maybe not ever, depending. But the potential's there, and he's really glad Mash got this chance to have such a good partner, no matter which way 'partner' gets translated.</p><p>For some reason, that makes Ritsuka's cheeks redden again. "Thanks," she says softly. "My parents never told me anything like that before."</p><p>Romani frowns. "They didn't?"</p><p>"Mh-mh." Ritsuka shakes her head. "They expected me to get good grades, and be good at sports, and do extracurricular stuff, so when I did all those things it wasn't like it was special. They never not gave me stuff I needed, but they've always been too interested in other stuff to mind much what I wanted. I thought it was pretty normal."</p><p>"I guess for some kids it is," Romani admits, and his heart squeezes hard, because — that's the kind of father he'd been; that's the kind of father his <em>father </em>had been. There, but distant; providing, but only in the most worldly terms. It's not the kind of parent he would have wanted to be ... but he hadn't known how to be anything else. He sets down his empty coffee mug to go over and ruffle her hair. "I think it's pretty sad, though."</p><p>"I think so too," Ritsuka confesses, and doesn't shake him off, but leans a little into his hand until she realises she's doing it. <em>Then</em> she shakes her head and straightens up, and looks at him with impish brightness as she says, "So! Sex?"</p><p>Romani laughs. "Well, what do you already know? I can give you the <em>biological</em> rundown, but most of what would be applicable to you would be things like menstrual cycles and hormone changes. I'm pretty sure you've noticed the first one."</p><p>He says it dryly, because he <em>knows</em> she has, because he'd made it a point to make sure <em>someone</em>, if not him, ensured her kit was well-stocked with those kinds of emergency provisions just in case. He's a man, not an idiot, and Da Vinci, never having been subject to that consideration, wouldn't have thought of it.</p><p>"Little bit!" Ritsuka rolls her eyes, but she's laughing as he does. "Most of what I know about that came from girls at school sharing things. We learned a <em>bit</em> about it in class, and a bunch of things about boy's stuff which I don't care much about. And that's it. The textbooks were pretty useless, all the pictures had clothes on."</p><p>Ah, that <em>is</em> pretty terrible. Romani absorbs that and nods. "Okay. Well, since you're not interested in boys, the only way pregnancy is a risk is if you decide to have sex with a girl who has male genitals or someone in a similar situation, and I don't see a lot of opportunities for that, unless I need to go have talks with Astolfo."</p><p>Ritsuka laughs again, shaking her head wildly. "Astolfo's enthusiastic, but not in that way."</p><p>"Then I'd recommend you still learn about it <em>sometime</em>," Romani says, "but it's probably not a priority for right now. Ritsuka." He puts his hand on her head to tip her head back so she looks properly up at him. "What do you <em>want</em> to know about sex?"</p><p>Her cheeks are still pretty pink, aren't they? Yep. "Well, I'd like to know where all the girl parts are," she mumbles. "I'm pretty sure there's things going on down there I don't really get. I've, um ..." She reddens more, her gaze slanting sideways so she doesn't have to look <em>at</em> him even looking <em>up</em> at him. "... poked around a little bit? I don't know the English word for that."</p><p>"Masturbation," Romani provides, and takes a seat on the table next to her. "Well, I can definitely give you the purely biological side of things, but if you're looking for <em>technique</em> —" She makes a quiet strangled noise and Romani grins freely in the knowledge that she's not looking, so she can't see him getting his revenge for her going through his wardrobe. "— might I suggest going to another woman?"</p><p>She squirms uncomfortably. "I don't know who to go to," she confesses. "I mean, Da Vinci's so <em>cerebral</em>, and she was a man when she was alive — what would she know about sex between women?"</p><p>"How about Artoria?" Romani asks patiently, and then adds more dryly, "I'd recommend the original, not the Alter, and not the goddesses." They don't always stick around, anyway; like most of the divinities who've gotten a hook into the place, Chaldea doesn't have the energy reserves to keep them summoned long-term. They keep the lights on the doorstep, metaphorically speaking, but there's a number of Servants who come and go just because the power they draw is that much more than others.</p><p>"I don't know," Ritsuka says slowly. "I mean, that'd be kind of awkward, wouldn't it? And anyway, Mordred ..." She motions vaguely. "To be honest, I ... I don't know how all that worked, and I figured it'd be weird to ask."</p><p>"It is," Romani says with as blank as face as he possibly can, "<em>entirely</em> possible to magically create artificial sex-toys to facilitate the transmission of DNA in circumstances where it otherwise wouldn't be possible. How d'you think Asterios was born, anyway?"</p><p>Ritsuka blanches. "Something about a cow, and a king?"</p><p>"Mhm."</p><p>"Ew."</p><p>Romani smiles slightly and musses her hair. "Ah, it takes all kinds. In some ways people in the ancient past were a lot less worried about putting their kinks on display, especially when magic could get involved."</p><p>Ritsuka barely seems to notice that her hair's been mussed, and that her ponytail is starting to come loose. "So ..." she tries, her face scrunching up with concentration. "So with Artoria, and Mordred ...?"</p><p>"Merlin's half-incubus, and a mage." Romani shrugs, slowly tugging strand after strand out of her pigtail to see how long it stays in. "Probably he made a special penis for her when the court started clamouring for an heir."</p><p>Ritsuka laughs and it's high and nervous and pretty strangled, and <em>now</em> she notices he's <em>definitely</em> messing with her hair and claps her hands up to stop him, scowling. "Well, then, why would Artoria know about having sex with another woman, if she had a magical penis to do it for her?"</p><p>"Because she loved Guinevere," Romani says, "and the only reason a penis would be needed is to produce heirs."</p><p>"How do you know?" Ritsuka demands with a kind of reckless desperation, and Romani wonders whether she's looking for an excuse not to ask about sex or these questions had just been burning in her for the last two years. "How do you know it wasn't just a political marriage?"</p><p>"It wouldn't have been a betrayal if there wasn’t love involved," Romani answers simply. Ritsuka goes quiet and Romani gives her a quick hug around the shoulders, and then gets up to collect the things he'd already gathered. "Roll up your sleeve?"</p><p>She does that, still staring contemplatively at the floor, and only looks up once he's putting the blood-pressure band around her arm. "You really think Artoria would know about — stuff?"</p><p>"I really think she would," says Romani with a reassuring smile. "Is it really that hard to ask?"</p><p>"Yes," Ritsuka admits, "but I don't know why. It just seems — kind of weird, and dumb, to ask the once and future king about her lesbian sex life." Romani laughs and Ritsuka smiles small and sheepish. "Well ..."</p><p>"I think you'll find Artoria would prefer being asked directly, than having people dance around her," Romani tell her, thinking of — what, it was yesterday, right? He glances at the clock. Yep. Yesterday. "And I think she might appreciate the chance to think of Guinevere during happier times. Even if she doesn't, she won't begrudge just the asking of the question."</p><p>"How can you be sure?"</p><p>Romani chuckles self-deprecatingly. "Ah, she told me off for avoiding her ..."</p><p>"Avoiding her?" Ritsuka echoes, squinting at him with her nose-scrunching concentration. "Why would you want to avoid Artoria? Because of Merlin?"</p><p>"Because I killed her during the Fuyuki Grail War," Romani says simply, "in order to win."</p><p>"Oh." She goes quiet then and Romani doesn't exactly want to expound on that particular subject any further than <em>that</em>. He takes her blood pressure and notes it down on the exam room's tablet, hooked into slot on the end of the table, and Ritsuka speaks while his back is turned. "Is that why you've always been weird around Heracles?"</p><p>Ah, she's really too observant about some things ... Romani smiles ruefully, but it doesn't feel like the good kind of smile, and he doesn't look up from jotting down notes. "Yeah. He was Berserker. Let's just say I saw him do some things ... and I Saw him do some things he didn't."</p><p>"Saw him do some things he — <em>oh</em>." Ritsuka falls quiet again, nodding to herself but obeying automatically all the little instructions he has as he goes about the exam. It's not a major one. Just something he's done a dozen times, with her, being the last Master and the only hope of humanity, darting in and out of Singularities like there may not be a tomorrow.</p><p>"You are the picture of health," Romani announces when he's done, and making some final notes on the tablet. "At least according to these general tests. I notice you haven't had a blood test since before Shinjuku and through a couple of other Singularities, though?"</p><p>Ritsuka winces in the middle of finally redoing her pigtail. "I kept avoiding them ... Nightingale wanted to do them."</p><p>Oh, yeah. Romani can't <em>totally</em> blame her for that one. "Well, we'll make an appointment. If you were even briefly in a prison during Ishtar's drag-race, and Shinjuku didn't exactly sound <em>hygienic</em> —"</p><p>"It really, really was not."</p><p>"— then I want to make sure you haven't picked up anything that's incubating," Romani finishes with a nod. He looks up with a smile. "But we can make that appointment later. Right now, it's time for a biology lesson. Let me get my laptop."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Bats of a feather</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The start of this chapter is NSFW, for wrapping up the previous chapter's subject.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day gets a little better after that. Ritsuka, it transpires, has a <em>bundle</em> of questions, some of them not entirely physically accurate ... <em>many</em> of them not entirely physically accurate. Romani gets her studying a diagram of a female reproductive system and quickly shoots off a message to Da Vinci to <em>please</em> check for porn on the facility network and also consider Ritsuka's browsing habits and whether they need to institute some kind of adult filter.</p>
<p>Okay, the horse is kind of out of the barn on that one — and at least Ritsuka had the good sense to come to him instead of keeping quiet. But as she said, there's a <em>lot</em> out there and they can at least institute some kind of filter to weed out the gratuitously inaccurate trash. If there's any porn she super liked, they can always find it for her later once she knows how to tell what's true and what's just titillating fantasy.</p>
<p>As predicted, Ritsuka's not all that interested in the actual 'reproductive' part and Romani doesn't focus all too much on it from a reproductive stance. Instead he covers sensitive nerve bunches, infection risks, general hygiene, and how sex might intersect with hormone cycles. Ritsuka absorbs it all like a sponge — not even a dazed-eyed sponge! Clearly, this is information she's been hungering for, and for a significant period of time.</p>
<p>After that Romani finds work-related excuses not to have to go back to his desk, all of which is perfectly legitimate — it just happens to involve a bunch of familiarising himself with recent standards and upkeep, and several of his recurring patients from the Grand Order. Ritsuka's not the only one, and neither is Mash. There's a few of the Servants he'd seen regularly too; Sir Bedivere, for one. Paracelsus, it transpires, has been keeping some extensive notes on long-term contracted manifestation, and once that conversation starts Romani's startled to find over an hour has passed when it finally ends.</p>
<p>By the time Romani walks out of the infirmary he's grateful for the distraction, because just the act of picking up his laptop had reminded him that he is, in fact, waiting for something.</p>
<p>He manages to hold out as far as his room before he caves to the urge to check his messages, to no avail. It feels a little like his heart missed a step, every time.</p>
<p>Once again he teeters on the brink of sending a follow-up — but he still doesn't want to be that person, and in the end he sets down his laptop a little harder than necessary and flees — ahem. <em>Leaves</em> his room. For dinner. Right. Food is important, and maybe Emiya could use a hand.</p>
<p>Emiya does not need a hand. Sometime in the last twenty-four hours, someone has spilled or broken <em>something</em>, with the result that when Romani pokes his head in to see whether or not Emiya's got a handle on the dishes, he finds Emiya with his arms crossed and standing over a scowling Mordred and a chagrined Jekyll up to their elbows in water and suds. Romani pulls back laughing softly, unseen; but it does mean that when he finishes dinner he doesn't know what to do next.</p>
<p>Romani almost wishes there's someone around who'd bother him. Maybe not as far as Ramesses — but he'd take Martha, at this point. Maybe. No matter how awkward that conversation might have turned out, at least it would be a distraction.</p>
<p>He spends a brief period of time contemplating watching something on his laptop — but being anywhere <em>near</em> his laptop is a super bad idea right now. No, he needs a non-laptop distraction, preferably one that won't encourage him to check his messages between videos.</p>
<p><span class="pwa-mark decorator">Welp</span>. Nothing for it. It's time to hit the rec-room. There's a few video games in there which might serve him overnight. Anyway, it's been a while; he hadn't really got a chance to play during the Grand Order, so he's probably rusty.</p>
<p>Somehow, Romani doesn't expect to get there and have the door open on someone shrieking not-quite obscenities at the screen, and someone else shouting something that sounds suspiciously like a war-cry, all over the sound of punchy music turned just a smidge too low for Romani to ID it offhand. There's a moment when he stands in the doorway and blinks, taking in the room. It's got more — <em>stuff</em> — in it than he remembers. A few more chairs, pillows and beanbags. Is that a coffee stand? That sure looks like a coffee stand ... oh, that's a wonderfully bad idea.</p>
<p>There's only two people in the room, but sound of his entrance draws attention from at least one of them — a girl he absolutely doesn't know, in spectacles and a hooded otaku cape, and with a suspicious squint. "We turned stuff down," she says immediately, defensive and bristling. "We're not being loud! Right, General?"</p>
<p>"We have indeed endeavoured to lower our volume," agrees the other woman in the room, who has not even remotely looked up from the screen or stopped what she's doing.</p>
<p>Romani takes in horns and white hair, thinks wonderingly to himself, <em>An oni gamer?</em></p>
<p>Then the music <em>finally</em> sinks in and he blinks again. "Is this Gorilla Punch?"</p>
<p>And then goes red, because <em>oh boy</em> showing that he's a giant idol nerd is totally not how he means to introduce himself, generally speaking —</p>
<p>"Ah!" The girl in the bat-cape perks up. "You know <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Momokuro</span>?"</p>
<p>... Oh. Romani brightens. "Yeah! I can't get out of the facility enough to go myself, but I try to watch their live shows streamed, if I can. And I've got a collection of their musicals."</p>
<p>"Oh, oh oh!" The girl sits up, doesn't <em>quite</em> drop her controller, and actually bounces on her knees a little. "Did you see their newest musical <em>Do You Wanna Dance</em>? It's got —"</p>
<p>"Woah!" Romani yelps, moving into the room as if to clap a hand on her mouth before he checks himself. "Spoilers! I've been away for the last year, I haven't seen <em>anything</em> new!"</p>
<p>"<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Ohhh</span>." The bat-girl eyeballs him speculatively. "You're that guy — that Western mage-king doctor or something, right?"</p>
<p>"Hey!" Romani scowls. "Israel isn't <em>Western</em>."</p>
<p>The oni at the controls looks up with a face full of earnest sincerity. "It is west of Japan, is it not?"</p>
<p>"<em>Yeah</em>, but there's western and then there's <em>Western</em>." Abruptly Romani realises what he's saying, goes a little redder still, and laughs awkwardly to himself, waving with a scrunch of his fingers. "Hi. Yes, that's me. Or was me, or whatever. I'm still catching up on everyone who's been summoned while I've been gone. Who are you, please?"</p>
<p>"Hmmm." The girl in the bat-cape scrunches her face at him suspiciously, drawing the cape a little closer around her shoulders, but she hops to her feet and bobs a quick bow. "<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span>. Assassin, I <em>guess</em>."</p>
<p>"Tomoe Gozen. Archer." The oni turns where she sits to bow from the waist without rising, and continues while Romani stands there in a mild stun. "Would you care to join us? It would raise our capabilities to have a third."</p>
<p>Romani shakes himself. "Co-op?" he asks, moving over to sink down into one of the beanbags nearest, scooting just a bit closer and picking up one of the two abandoned controllers nearby. "I'm not stellar at first-person shooters, but I shouldn't hold you back. I'm at your disposal, General Gozen."</p>
<p>"I accept your aid, Doctor," says Tomoe with a warm smile. "I prefer co-op, yes. Fighting against one another seems — hm. Ill-advised, if the point is enjoyment. That is best saved for sparring and simulations."</p>
<p>"Gonna be honest, I can't disagree." Romani grins to himself, finding the menu to fit himself into their game using his account. Mm, still remembers his password — excellent.</p>
<p>— Hey. <em>Hey</em>. Wait a minute. Romani pauses in looking for their game to squint at his profile, just as <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span> sits up on her knees, pointing accusingly at the screen.</p>
<p><em>"Hey!</em> You're that <span class="pwa-mark decorator">archromance</span> guy!"</p>
<p>"What happened to all my high scores?!" Romani objects in nearly the same moment, and they look at each other over Tomoe's head. Romani tries <em>very hard</em> not to let his face fall into a total sulk. He's not sure he really succeeds. He spent <em>years</em> of his Chaldean off-duty time ... and occasionally his most boring instances of on-duty time ... getting those scores. "You beat all my high scores?"</p>
<p>"Not all of them," <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span> mutters sulkily as Romani scrolls down, vainly searching for something he <em>hasn't</em> lost. Okay, the FPS, fine, they aren't his strength, and honestly he'd have lost them as soon as his usual rivals had a chance, if the Incineration hadn't happened. But the musical games and the rhythm games! Those are his <em>niche</em>!</p>
<p>Aha! He still has his Guitar Hero high score! Romani breathes a sigh of relief as <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span> flops back down with an <em>ugh</em>. "I've been trying to beat that one for <em>weeks</em>."</p>
<p>"You got all the others," Romani grumbles. "I'm going to have to get them back, you realise."</p>
<p>"Bring it." She eyeballs his hair, the braid wrapping the ponytail and the rose keeping it all together. "<em>Rosy-</em><span class="pwa-mark decorator"><em>posey</em></span> <em>boy</em>."</p>
<p>"Batgirl," Romani shoots back, and abandons his profile to log into their game. "Or should I say <em>Batty-</em><span class="pwa-mark decorator"><em>chan</em></span>?"</p>
<p>"Not original," she retorts, picking up her controller, while Tomoe laughs softly between them. "Ugh, I guess we can work together this time — for the General's sake. But after that I'm gonna beat that last high score of yours, and then I'll watch you <em>weep</em>."</p>
<p>"You wish," Romani mutters, his attention on the screen as it flickers from loading to active, and that makes it easy to hide the fact his mouth is trying to pull up at the corners. Oh, this is gonna be fun, and this is <em>definitely</em> a distraction he needs.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Get him — <em>he's right there yeet him </em>—"</p>
<p>"I've got him, I've got him!" Tongue between his teeth, Romani twists with the controller as if that will at <em>all</em> help with in-game physics while mashing the buttons for a combo. His <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Dawnblade</span> casts a volley of fire-swords directly in the boss’s face, sending him soaring off the edge of the platform — straight into <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span>'s trap and a hail of Tomoe's solar grenades for good measure.</p>
<p>"<em>Yatta</em>!"</p>
<p>Without looking over Romani high-fives <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span> over Tomoe's head, grinning madly.</p>
<p>"Well done, my loyal troops," says Tomoe, somewhere just short of enthusing but somewhere beyond victorious. "A short break, and then we shall attempt our next battle."</p>
<p>"For two of you, anyway," says Da Vinci from the doorway, sounding very amused and shades of exasperated, and Romani twists to blink at her. "Romani, have you been here all night?"</p>
<p>"<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Nooooooo</span>?" he tries, and glances sideways to find the clock on the screen. ... Oh. Oh, he has. Um. Oops. "... <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Yeeeeeeees</span>?"</p>
<p>"You owe me breakfast," Da Vinci informs him pertly, and although Romani really doesn't remember that agreement, he does remember that Da Vinci had conspired to provide him a distraction earlier today. ... Yesterday.</p>
<p>"Ah, guess I'm cutting out, then." Romani smiles ruefully at Tomoe and <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span>, setting down his controller. "Talk to you later? Send me that Momoiro Clover Z album!"</p>
<p>"I definitely will," says <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span>, skulking under her hood like she hadn't for at least a few hours. She straightens up and points at him dramatically. "And I <em>will</em> beat that Guitar Hero high score, see if I don't!"</p>
<p>Romani's smile this time is dazzling and edged, and dangerously cheerful as he moves toward the door. "Good luck with that! I composed that one myself, so there's no walkthrough."</p>
<p>The door closes on <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span> shrieking, "<em>WHAT?!"</em></p>
<p>Romani laughs softly as he falls into step beside Da Vinci, and then catches her looking thoughtfully at him. Immediately, defensiveness makes him want to hunch his shoulders. "What?"</p>
<p>"I didn't think you composed anything after your rebirth," she says simply, and Romani's face warms.</p>
<p>"Uh, well ..." He coughs. "I'm not sure I'd call it <em>composing</em>. There was this one guy, temporary mage staff, he was <em>unbearable</em> — especially about games. So I just ... made sure he'd never hold the high score. It probably doesn't count when I just made it to make the game impossible." Time to change the subject. "Anyway, since when have you been so concerned about my sleeping habits?"</p>
<p>"Don't think I don't see exactly what you're doing, Romani Archaman," Da Vinci says severely, but she's smiling as she says it. "At least your reborn body would just collapse if you pushed it too hard, but according to Paracelsus that's not likely to happen with this one. Personally, I've prefer to have you on even keel than discover all that magic has gone sideways because you can't take care of yourself. Did you even <em>notice</em> you spent all night playing video games?"</p>
<p>Romani tugs his ponytail sheepishly. "No. Turns out it's really easy to forget things like that when you don't get hungry or sleepy ... Ah, I guess you could say I was more like a Heroic Spirit than an ordinary human even when I was alive."</p>
<p>"No wonder Gilgamesh wants to stab you," Da Vinci mutters.</p>
<p>"Hey!"</p>
<p>"Well, he only pays attention to his peers, doesn't he?"</p>
<p>"<em>Hey</em>," Romani repeats, this time whiningly. "I don't want to be compared to <em>him</em>."</p>
<p>"Tough," says Da Vinci, smiling brightly and linking their arms. "And now, you owe me breakfast, because I oh-so-nicely sent Ritsuka your way yesterday. And then, after that, I'm ordering you —"</p>
<p>"<em>Ordering</em>?!"</p>
<p>"— as your temporary commander to go have a nap."</p>
<p>"I liked you better when you were a technical consultant," Romani grumbles, but he's smiling and not even trying to hide it as Da Vinci steers him inexorably toward the cafeteria.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, Romani does as ordered: eating and then resting. Well, resting ... he checks his laptop first. There's still no response, and since it's been an extra day, Romani whips off another message. He doesn't reread what he says, in case he chickens out, but it's something to the effect of 'Hey, just checking to make sure you got my message'.</p>
<p>
  <em>"I truly hope he answers you, and yet I'm worried for what it means if he doesn't."</em>
</p>
<p>Artoria's words keep cycling over and over in Romani's mind, and his heart alternately beats fast and shrivels coldly. He unwinds the rose from his hair and cups it in his hands, watching it bloom more fully just for being cradled. It's bigger every time he looks at it ... and now it's so open, he can see the middle doesn't look like a normal rose, the sort found in florists' shops. He doesn't remember ever seeing a rose so open that there isn't a bud in the centre, but here, this one, seems eager to reveal itself to him, its innermost petals arranged in patterns of five.</p>
<p>"I don't suppose you have a connection to him over there?" he asks the rose, and all it does is continue to open to him, all silken petals and dampness. There's a point when it seems almost — indecent, and he's blushing when he sets it in its glass of water, and lays down to have a nap, as ordered. He doesn't expect to sleep, but he drops off quickly in the dual scents of frankincense and wild rose.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. An unexpected interlude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Romani wakes up from his nap feeling sleepy and well-rested. He definitely dreamed, but it wasn't his 'usual' dreams, the ones to which he'd grown accustomed. He doesn't remember exactly what it was, except that there had been a rose, and he wakes up blushing.</p><p>He's not sure he wants to remember ...</p><p>It might be embarrassing even to admit to himself.</p><p>But the idea of lounging around for much longer, while mildly tempting, isn't tempting enough. After all the time he'd spent huddled in a bed or on a couch after his rebirth, the idea of malingering for too long for <em>no</em> reason has always seemed a little intolerable. Waiting around for a bomb doesn't count.</p><p>At least he's been getting on top of things at the infirmary, so when Romani swings by to check on things there, there isn't anything super pressing to attend — and not much that doesn't require his laptop, either. He spends some time, with resignation, handling some daily administration which will make tomorrow easier for having done it, and then some time after that catching up some more; and before long the afternoon is well into its zenith and he's forgotten about lunch.</p><p>He mostly remembers this due to the smell of hot coffee, sandwiches and cakes wafting in through his office door from the main desk, and honestly, that's what pulls him out, more than his stomach gurgling. The drawbacks of overly efficient magical circuits ...</p><p>"Food?" he asks hopefully, and two of the nurses exchange looks and laugh.</p><p>"Mr Emiya set out a buffet in the lounge," one informs him, and it takes very little for Romani to decide to close up his laptop and abscond with it in that direction. He can do some work there, right? As long as it's on the facility network and not paperwork laying about, it's fine for basic security protocols. There's no games and no TV in the lounge, by design, so he's not likely to get distracted by either of those.</p><p>But: there's Servants, because of course there are; because after the gym and the kitchen, this is where they loiter when not in their spirit forms. Romani hears music from down the hall, and hesitates; but it should be okay. After all, it's not like his interactions with other Servants have gone terribly the last few days. It's probably Tristan; it doesn't sound like a violin ... and this sense of aversion is stupid, just because a certain someone might be there — someone above all the other someones he's been avoiding since the Third Singularity.</p><p>It's not Tristan, and Romani doesn't know why he's even surprised to see instead David sitting in one of the corners, harp in hands and leaned over a page with —</p><p>Romani frowns. That is most definitely a bat otaku cape, and that sheet they're leaning over looks like a printout with musical bars on it. Romani winds his way around the furniture, not even trying to hide that he's there, and he doesn't know whether he's heading over to <em>stop</em> them or just bust them collaborating. Trying to collaborate.</p><p><span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span> looks up as he draws close, the soft shoes distributed by the facility not quite soft enough to hide a footfall even on carpet. She blanches, bristles, and then snatches up her copy of the notes, but not before Romani sees what's on them, even from a slight distance.</p><p>"Anyway, thanks for your insight," she says chirpily to David, even while pulling her cape protectively around her.</p><p>"Not at all, not at all," says David cheerfully. "Ah, a pity I could not help a beautiful woman more ... I'm not familiar with this game of which you speak, though there could well be a Hebrew influence on this melody."</p><p>"No problem, you've given me something to work from." She hops to her feet and aims for the door, and mutters as she passes: "I'll <em>crush</em> you, Rosy-Posy."</p><p>"Bring it, Batty-chan," Romani mutters back, and then she's gone in a flutter of her cape and David is <em>definitely</em> laughing.</p><p>"Is this yours?" he asks, raising the page, and yep — yep, that sure is the song Romani wrote for Guitar Hero. Mutely Romani nods. Why did he even come up to them like this? Stupid. "Ah, and for a game? No wonder some of the bars seem odd." David leans over the page, nodding thoughtfully. "Mm, playing a game is different from playing an instrument."</p><p>"Yeah, it is," says Romani automatically, and catches himself, clearing his throat and glancing around to find the buffet table — yep, over there. Nailed it. He is just ... going to excuse himself now. For all that David's done in the very recent past, Romani finds he doesn't know how to talk to the man with the secret out, with everyone <em>knowing</em>, without the distance of being tired or emotionally distraught or even just having another person in the way. Mostly because those times had meant he hadn't had to talk to him at all. "I've never even heard it out loud, really, just as an electronic rhythm ... excuse me."</p><p>"Would you like to?"</p><p>Romani's very first step falters and his chest squeezes unexpectedly tight. When he glances back, David's smile is a crooked, gentle one, one Romani doesn't remember ever seeing on his face. Maybe when he was very small ...</p><p>His throat is tight, and his eyes are prickling, and words don't want to come; so in the end Romani simply nods. David hums, and picks up his kinnor. "Then I'll play it as it is, and you can hear what might be changed."</p><p><em>That's no guarantee I'm going to do anything about it,</em> Romani wants to say, but his feet just take him closer to the couch as David begins to play, humming with it.</p><p>It's — complex; that's the clearest thing about it, which shouldn't be a surprise. Romani had written it for no other reason than to spite someone else at a video game. But while its complexity could be filled by an orchestra, David isn't one: and the singular thread of melody by rights should be many. Quietly Romani pulls the page closer, and makes a note. Just one, he tells himself. It's not as if he's a <em>musician</em>. Not <em>really</em>. That's a title more deserved by others, who actually put fingers to string, bow to horsehair ...</p><p>But one note turns into another, and then another; some of them simple, others as complex as the song David's playing. There's a raw potential in it, brought to light in a way the rhythm of a video game couldn’t, and when it fades Romani is silent and thoughtful, and his chest feels unexpectedly full.</p><p>He remembers jotting down notes before he ascended the throne ...</p><p>He doesn't remember hearing his father play all that much in his childhood. But he'd known it, as he'd known many things; and here, a secret child's wish fulfilled which Romani hadn't even known he could have had.</p><p>"I saw you making changes," David says, and holds out his hand in a way which Romani unthinkingly obeys, passing the sheet into his grasp. David looks down and quiets a laugh in his throat, seeing the way Romani's split out the melodies. "Ah, I think I can only play one of these ..."</p><p>"May I?" asks Tristan, and Romani startles, blinking at the knight leaning forward on a settee nearby — not close enough to be considered part of the conversation, but near enough to have been attentively listening. His eyes are closed, as they often are — but he opens them now, which is unusual enough that it leaves Romani speechless still. "I would be honoured to aid in a composition wrought by the kings of Israel."</p><p>"A harp and an ancient kinnor are quite close in sound," says Amadeus, sounding cheerfully disparaging but interested. "You'd do better with a contrast." Romani almost doesn't dare to look around; he closes his eyes instead, and laughs softly, helplessly. He'd come in here for food and quiet work ...</p><p>"Is there another instrument you would suggest?" Tristan asks politely. "A violin is, of course, yet another stringed instrument ..."</p><p>"That is true, that is true," Amadeus agrees cheerfully, and when Romani opens his eyes it's to see him turning to point at the electric keyboard sitting in the corner, one which had been there for years and left abandoned, and dusted off for the Servants' amusement since. "However, <em>that</em> is not." The musician pouts, stroking his chin. "Mm, it doesn't have even <em>close</em> to the timbre of a proper piano — but in a pinch, it shall do."</p><p>"Amadeus," Marie exclaims, and Romani closes his eyes again to swallow the groan and thus avoid her scandalised amusement on his behalf. How many people are witnessing this? How many are getting involved? "This is perhaps a private family moment, no?"</p><p>"I was only offering my aid and insight," Amadeus objects, and Romani can <em>hear</em> the pout in his voice. "If the past kings of Israel have no need of additional instruments, I can certainly take my expertise elsewhere. A private song, perhaps, for you, my queen?"</p><p>"Ah, I see I am forever second-place to your one true love," Marie says, but she sounds fond rather than offended.</p><p>"Your Majesty," says Bedivere, very quiet and studious in the corner, nearly as close as Tristan is. "If you have a need for privacy, please but say so, and we will ensure it."</p><p>It takes Romani a solid ten seconds to realise Bedivere is talking to <em>him</em>, Bedivere's gaze is on <em>him,</em> and something hot and bitter rises in his throat. He swallows hard. He'd been this man's doctor ... he'd attended his arm, he'd attended his body, he'd ensured his Spirit Origin's stability —</p><p>But now <em>Your Majesty</em> instead of <em>Doctor</em>, and even knowing he can no longer hide, from someone who'd been his patient, someone to whose king Romani had given a message, it seems an additionally bitter pill to swallow. And now there are Servants all around him, and some further back, watching without watching, listening while doing their own thing, and all at once Romani feels trapped where he is.</p><p>"I ..."</p><p>David hums something wordless next to him, something so deeply familiar that it's calming just to hear it, and when Romani closes his eyes again and takes some deep breaths, he finds panic easing.</p><p><em>Mother used to sing me that,</em> he thinks, a little dazed. <em>Father never did.</em></p><p>A long-ago lullaby, forgotten by the modern people, but soothing in ways he'd forgotten needing to be soothed.</p><p>"Tonight, my queen, I shall make you my first love," he hears Amadeus promise suddenly. "The horrid electric piano can wait another time."</p><p>"Ah, Amadeus, you say that as if you've not already laid your hands on her ..."</p><p>But Marie still sounds fond as their voices move away, as their footsteps depart, and Romani exhales slowly. He hears Tristan rise.</p><p>"I have just remembered," Tristan says, "that one of my harp's strings is near to breaking; and it will need tuning before I may use it again. I would not have it anything less than its best in such a situation. Please forgive my forgetfulness."</p><p>"If you require a hand to hold it for tuning —"</p><p>"I believe I will, Sir Bedivere, thank you."</p><p>It is — so very, <em>very</em> transparent, and makes Romani feel both pathetic and pathetically grateful. He hears them move off, and doesn't dare open his eyes while they're still damp. Not even when David's fingers move idly on strings to accompany the hum; not even when Romani feels — a little less edged, if no less pathetic.</p><p>"Thank you," he says quietly, and this time David's hum is more of acknowledgement than song.</p><p>"I remember," he begins, and then stops. "Ah, assuming you wish to know what I remember ..."</p><p>Romani's heart thuds, and his mouth dries. "Please."</p><p>Most of what he remembers of his father is — age and gravity, sorrow and burdens, and the look in his eyes when Romani was under his gaze, as if he was seeing something more terrifying than wonderful.</p><p>"I remember," David says again, more softly musing, and in a cadence that matches the run of fingers across strings, "a boy, once, who used to sit in corners of rooms and stare at nothing. So much so that we thought he was afraid of — well, of anything, or possibly everything; we couldn't be sure which. It was slightly alarming."</p><p>Romani manages to laugh softly, and finally he opens his eyes to look, though David doesn't look back. "Only slightly?"</p><p>"Mm, well." David's mouth twists. "More for the child than his actions ... A blessed child, acting afraid."</p><p>"I don't remember this," Romani confesses, because of course the child is him — of course. Who else? But when he thinks back — he can't remember any times he acted the way David describes, a frightened child.</p><p>"It reminded me of me," says David, and Romani's heart gives another great thud, as if it has to remind itself to continue beating. David nods slightly, as if to confirm, though he's not looked over. "Ah, there's a lot to be nervous about, when you've grown up among fields of sheep. But sheep can always tell your nerves, you know — and when one takes, so will all the others. Presenting a calm front is the only way to keep them from being constantly lost."</p><p>"I don't know how I feel being compared to a bunch of sheep," Romani mumbles, and David laughs softly, almost hidden over the idle music from his kinnor.</p><p>"One day I sat with him as he curled in a corner, and asked from what he hid. I expected him to answer — 'from my brothers', or something similar. Perhaps the sounds in the dark, the wind in the halls. Instead he turned to me and said, with eyes too big for a child's face, 'Father —'"</p><p>"'I'm trying to get out of your shadow'," Romani blurts, and then clamps his mouth shut as a lump makes bile rise, so he can swallow it down.</p><p>David hums. "Ah, you <em>do</em> remember."</p><p>"I remember your face afterward," Romani says, very quietly. Stricken and shocked, and half disbelieving — as though discovering a wolf's pup under sheepskin.</p><p>"You were four years old," says David. "I thought you were running from a child's fears, and instead ..." He sighs then, and lays his hand flat on the chords to still them. "That was the day I began to wonder how many sons I had lost for my sins, in truth."</p><p>"Children say the craziest things?" Romani tries, and it falls flat even as it makes David smile.</p><p>"Not this one," he says softly. "This one, it was impossible to feel as though the eyes of the Lord were not always upon me." Romani flinches. "I don't know if you wondered why I barely seemed to look at you ..."</p><p>"I didn't have the capacity, at the time," Romani says through a tight throat, and he's not sure if he <em>means</em> it to come out accusing, but it kind of does. David nods without argument.</p><p>"There was a period I wasn't sure if you were a blessing or a punishment. No matter whether I looked or not, you always seemed to know that which I wanted to forget ... though I <em>am</em> curious." He glances sideways, fingers resting tips against the strings. "Did you ever see Jonathan?"</p><p>That's — Romani blinks. That's not where he expected this conversation to go. He'd been bracing himself for pain, not ... whatever that is. "I knew who he was, if that's what you mean," he says, baffled. "But if there's anything else I'm meant to have noticed or remembered, I don't."</p><p>There is, generally, too much for him to see to have remembered things that were inconsequential — or inconsequential to Israel and the future of the world, anyway. The past, yes, the places the world had been — and often he saw the little things. But there were many things he saw, and forgot, and were ripples in time that left little trace afterward.</p><p>David laughs and it's wry, and he strums his kinnor again. "Oh, that's interesting, mm? For all my sins, that one isn't counted among them."</p><p>That one isn't —</p><p>It takes Romani a full minute to ping to what David means, and he blushes hot and looks away, clearing his throat. "Yeah, well," he mumbles, and doesn't know where he's going with that; so he says nothing, and eyeballs his laptop, contemplating doing what he'd intended to begin with — some actual work. Since this conversation has gotten super awkward and super painful, super fast.</p><p>"So awkward in the discussion of sex, o doctor?" David asks in his cheeriest, most obnoxious tone, and Romani scowls at him without actually looking over.</p><p>"Thanks, but I've got tons of things I'd rather think about than my father having sex."</p><p>David's laughter is light and ringing and draws fleeting attention from around the room. "I can think of a <em>room</em> full of advisors who thought it was exactly their duty. Ah, Abishag ..." This last is a sigh, and Romani echoes it, though his is definitely more exasperated than wistful, and David smiles a little. "Ah, if that's how you feel, you should have told Master the truth of it — certainly she wouldn't believe me."</p><p>"Why would I?" Romani demands, still not looking over. "If you want people not to think of you as a creepy old man, maybe you should try <em>not acting like a creepy old man</em>. I'm not going to absolve you of your actions by letting it be known the young girl whose name still lingers on your tongue belongs to one who merely cradled you to sleep in your old, impotent age."</p><p>"There," says David wryly and without complaint, "there is the cruel honesty." Romani scowls. "I didn't say it was <em>undeserved</em>." Romani's scowl deepens, and David laughs again, more scattered than before but no lessened in feeling, until it fades into another wistful sigh. "Whatever did happen to dear, sweet Abishag?"</p><p>... Oh, <em>crap</em>. Slowly Romani's face warms again, and he says nothing, because he <em>really</em> doesn't want to tell the truth, even though silence pretty much tells it for him. David takes one look at him and bursts into a fit of laughter that almost sends him falling off the couch. "You <em>married</em> her!"</p><p>"Well!" There is <em>no</em> way not to sound defensive about this. "What else was I <em>supposed</em> to do?! Legally she was <em>your</em> concubine — and Adonijah wanted to marry her himself!"</p><p>And back then, having sex with the king's concubines was tantamount to declaring themselves the king — which <em>Adonijah well knew</em>.</p><p>David rights himself still laughing softly, and sobers only slightly. "Ah, I'm surprised you let him live."</p><p>"I didn't," says Romani bitterly, "not after that." And the thought of it twists him up inside, because it had been one more thing in a long, long line of things for which he doesn't know if he'd chosen another course of action. Adonijah had been given a choice, and made a second play for the throne, and thereafter the voice of the Lord had spoken, for he would have only tried again and again, if allowed to live.</p><p>Looking back, there's a lot of things Romani really wishes he hadn't had know. Sure, legally he had all the ground to stand on. Would it have been worse if he'd shown mercy, if Adonijah had been let to continue digging the foundation out from under him? Romani doesn't know. His clairvoyance had removed that choice entirely.</p><p>"So you married her," says David, "just in case any of your other brothers by my other wives had any of the same thoughts." He hums. "At least someone got to indulge in her many charms, I suppose ..."</p><p>Given how often David had called <em>Mash</em> by Abishag's name —! Romani gives him the dirtiest, flattest look he can muster. "I didn't have sex with her," he says flatly. "I told her that as far as I was concerned her duty to the line of kings was fulfilled, and she could choose to do as she wished within certain boundaries. It seemed like the most gracious life I could give her.”</p><p>He glances down at sheet music and the kinnor in David’s hands, and his voice softens. “Actually … this is what we did. She played my compositions aloud so I could hear them, and helped me refine them. She was my friend, I think … but she never asked me to fulfil my duty as a husband, so I never did."</p><p>"And when one of the king's wives neglected to bear a child?" David asks, dry but soft and warm for all that. "Whose virility did they question?"</p><p>Romani hesitates. "Neither, to be honest."</p><p>"Ah?"</p><p>Oh, damn it. He's going to have to actually <em>explain</em>. But — but. It's true that David's always seemed to remember Abishag the best, no matter how gallingly bitter it had been, to hear him talk about her as if Romani's own mother is an afterthought. Maybe telling him will get him to lay off Mash and Ritsuka. If that's the case, Romani can bear the awkwardness. Maybe. Probably.</p><p>"I didn't have sex with her," he says, "but Asmodeus would have. My other wives thought of her as — someone whose virtue was to be protected, I suppose. They put themselves between them. After I had dealt with him she came to me to beg forgiveness." He smiles ruefully. "Made a spectacle of it, really. Claimed that she alone hadn't realised Asmodeus was a false king, that she didn't deserve to continue serving, and so on."</p><p>David hums. "Unlikely. The harem speaks."</p><p>"Exactly. But it was convincing enough for those who mattered. Naturally I couldn't just release a concubine from service, but since she was still virtuous, Zadok argued some truly impressive loopholes that allowed me to offer her in marriage to one of my brothers, provided he publicly renounced any claims to the throne. It was a brother Abishag chose, of course." He smiles a little. "I'd seen them making eyes at each other across the gardens."</p><p>"And which of my fortunate sons was this?" David asks with shades of amusement lurking around his mouth as his fingers glide across the strings.</p><p>"Nathan."</p><p>David lasts ten seconds before he snorts and breaks down again in helpless laughter, and this time Romani's mouth tugs reluctantly along with it even while he <em>tries</em> not to go the same way. It doesn't last long — he starts laughing and can't stop, resting his face in one hand, elbow braced on the back of the couch. He knows people are looking, again — but it's hard to stop, especially when they look at each other and dissolve into giggles all over again.</p><p>Nathan, whose bloodline resulted in the King of the Jews. Regardless of his status as an actual saviour or not, there's something patently hilarious about the drama of Abishag's virtues resulting in the lineage of the Christian messiah.</p><p>"Ah, our family is rather ridiculous, isn't it?" David sighs at last, still laughing softly as he wipes away tears.<em><br/>
</em></p><p>"It really, ridiculously, is," Romani agrees, and now despite everything and the conversation that had come before, he's smiling. He hadn't — ever thought he'd laugh with his father, to be honest. He hadn't had the capacity to want it, and then just been incapable of imagining it. He lets out a long breath, not quite a sigh, and rubs his face. "Ah, I came here for food and to do some work."</p><p>"A pity." David glances at him sidelong. "I haven't played your new melodies, yet. One by one, I think, without others accompanying."</p><p>Romani hesitates. He <em>really</em> should be working, but ...</p><p>But he really hadn't ever thought he'd get this chance. He glances down to close his laptop, and pulls the page closer. "By all means, then."</p><p>Work can wait a little longer.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Despite how canon seems to be casting Abishag, all accounts of David's relationship with her agree that there was no sex. She was brought in while he was an old man to try and 'cure' his impotence -- but most of what she did was sing to him and keep him warm at night in a literal sense. Actually, that's when it was concluded that David was no longer fit to be king: the king's virility directly corresponded to the nation's virility, so impotence was a sign that David was no longer fit to rule. Fun family drama!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. That other parental talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Mentions of experimentation on children, and rape.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It turns out that waking up on horrible nothingness after going to sleep feeling pretty good about spending time with an estranged father makes the horrible nothingness worse. Romani stares at the screen of his laptop, trying to fight back the feeling that something awful and hollow has opened up in his stomach. There's still no response from Merlin; and it's been a few days. Romani's even sent a second message. He wants to believe he just hasn't given Merlin enough time to see anything, but —</p><p>
  <em>"I hope he answers you, but I fear for what it means if he doesn't."</em>
</p><p>Artoria couldn't have meant that it means Merlin <em>hates</em> him, could it? That would be stupid. Merlin couldn't hate him; why would he bother to do everything he'd done, even for Ritsuka and Mash's sakes, if he hated Romani?</p><p>But Romani's gut is still opening up with dread, and in the end he swallows hard and puts the laptop lid down. Maybe he should ... maybe he <em>could</em> go see Da Vinci? Right? They'd been speaking over IM. Maybe Merlin's been talking to Da Vinci, and she can tell Romani whether he just hadn't seen Romani's messages, or whether Merlin's actually ignoring him ...</p><p>Mechanically Romani goes through the motions of getting ready for his day, and he doesn't remember actually making the decision but when he scoops up his laptop and exits, it's in the direction of Da Vinci's workshop. He doesn't really remember walking there, either. Mostly it's a stomach-twisting haze. But when he arrives, and knocks on the jamb, Da Vinci is at her computer, frowning almost thunderously down at the screen.</p><p>"What?" she asks distractedly, and then looks up and sees him. Almost at once her expression clears so fast and so completely into a smile that there's no <em>way</em> she isn't hiding something. "Romani~ Fancy meeting you here. Come for my scintillating conversation?"</p><p>... Does he want to ask? Whatever's making her frown might be something less pathetic than his problem, anyway. And a good distraction. Yeah, he's gonna ask. "What's wrong?"</p><p>"Oh, someone did something stupid," says Da Vinci dismissively, but she turns off that screen before she comes over to him. "What's up? You look like you're about to cry."</p><p><em>What</em>. He does not! Romani's hand flies up to touch his face. "I don't look that pathetic, do I?!"</p><p>"Just about," Da Vinci says sombrely, looking at him with keen eyes. "Merlin hasn't replied yet, has he?"</p><p>Just like that, the hollow dread sinks in on itself and Romani feels his face scrunching up despite his best efforts. He takes some deep breaths. Hold it together, Romani. Hold it together. He smiles bravely, and it mostly keeps his face in one piece. "Nope. I was wondering — um ..."</p><p>"Whether I've spoken to him recently?" Mercifully Da Vinci's tone is thoughtfully brisk as she pulls her wheeled chair along to a different laptop. If she'd been gentle or kind, Romani's pretty sure he would've lost it. He really <em>is</em> that pathetic. "Hmm. Well, I <em>did</em> keep him updated on the first few days of your progress, despite his attempts to duck me. I even had to give him a Trojan that would make his computer ping if he didn't answer in time." Her eyes narrow. "But from the looks of things there was a period where he didn't much care, which isn't unusual, and then he's been resorting to — <span class="pwa-mark decorator"><em>keysmashes</em></span><em>?!"</em></p><p>Pretty much all of her words feel like gut-punches, and Romani stands there quietly for some moments, with Artoria's words resounding in his ears.</p><p>"He hasn't said anything," he repeats softly.</p><p>"Not unless you count <span class="pwa-mark decorator"><em>keysmashes</em></span> as 'something'." Da Vinci swivels on her chair, and far from looking concerned, she looks — <em>irritated</em>. The way she'd looked at Romani when Romani was getting up her nose, only he's pretty sure now it's not him. She huffs. "Does he really think this is attractive? Does he think this is going to <em>stop</em> me?! No! No, I say! I am <span class="pwa-mark decorator"><em>Leonardo Da Vinci</em></span>, and a masochistic half-incubus stuck in a tower on the edges of the world has <em>nothing</em> on me!"</p><p>She shoves on the bench to push her chair back to the computer bank, muttering and grumbling and diving straight into lines of code that Romani right now doesn't care much about. He comes closer half in a daze, feeling as if things aren't quite real — except for the clench of pain around his chest. He's pretty sure <em>that's </em>real.</p><p>"What are you doing?" he asks in a small voice he wishes doesn't belong to him.</p><p>Da Vinci holds out her hand and snaps her fingers. "Laptop."</p><p>Romani obeys without thinking, handing it over and watching her open it up and plug it in with a USB cable, her face one of narrow, furious concentration.</p><p>"I'm going to show that dream of a half-human," she mutters, and some other things in Italian that make Romani want to laugh, except that it can't fight through the dread well enough to make it out. "I <em>warned</em> him I'd be making upgrades ... <em>there</em>." She sits back abruptly, finger pointed victoriously at his screen. "This is my IM service. It's specialised — he won't be expecting <em>you</em> on it. More to the point, now instead of merely chiming, it'll read everything you send <em>out loud</em>. If he thinks he's going to escape us just by refusing to look, he's got another think coming!"</p><p>She's so fierce, so <em>furious</em>, that Romani finds himself laughing. Or maybe crying. He's not entirely sure, but when he reaches up to scrub his eyes at least here aren't tears involved. He looks down at her with weary gratitude. "Thank you, Leonardo."</p><p>"<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Hmph</span>." Da Vinci closes his laptop and presents it to him. "I still don't know what to think of the two of you — you'll either be the best or the worst couple in history. But he's our <em>friend</em>, whether he likes it or not, and I've never had so many of them that I'll let them hide themselves away where no one can see."</p><p>"That's what you say about art."</p><p>"Exactly!" Da Vinci motions furiously. "Art is to be gazed-upon! It's to be ogled, delighted in, talked about, not — not <em>shut in a tower for the rest of eternity</em>."</p><p>Oh, Romani's definitely laughing now, louder and even more genuine than before. "Does Merlin know you think of him as a work of art? Should I be worried about your possessive tendencies?"</p><p>Da Vinci scoffs and waves this off. "I can recognise beauty without needing to claim it. It isn't as though I created him, after all! No, I'll leave that to <em>you</em>. Apparently he's going to take one hell of a <em>chisel</em>."</p><p>"<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Mhm</span>." Ah, the hollow feeling isn't exactly gone — but it's smaller than it was, and filled with warmth, and Romani finds himself smiling without having to strive for it. "Do you need help with whoever did the other stupid thing?"</p><p>She pauses, her gaze on her screen, and at least there is genuine thought in this; enough so that when she finally says, "Not yet," Romani accepts it. "I suspect I'll need your input later — but not yet."</p><p>"Okay," says Romani softly. "Thank you again, Leonardo."</p><p>Her wave is dismissive and she doesn't turn, but that doesn't matter. Romani leaves her workshop feeling less horribly hollow than he had before. Enough that, when he reaches the infirmary, he takes a deep breath and opens his laptop again, and tabs to Da Vinci's IM service. — Ah, he’d better make sure he’s using proper punctuation this time, if it’s text-to-speech.</p><p><em>Merlin, I know you’ve been talking to Da Vinci, a little,</em> he types, and presses send before he can psych himself out. <em>Just in case you missed my message, I‘d like to talk to you. Please respond.</em></p><p>His fingers want to say more. His fingers really want to start rambling about — about how nervous he is. And how afraid he'd been, and how Merlin had helped him not be so afraid, or hadn't tried to tell him he shouldn't be. How much it had mattered — <em>does </em>matter — that Merlin had said and done everything he had.</p><p>All that might be too much, though. Romani takes another deep breath and curls his fingers in, and closes his laptop again to rest his head in his hands. He really must be pathetic, to find something like this so hard ...</p><p>What if Merlin never does answer? What if it's just as Artoria says, and Merlin just — can't bear to be part of the human world, after all? What if Avalon really is just that alluring?</p><p>"Um, Doctor?"</p><p>Romani's head jerks up and he blinks at Mash, and musters a smile a split-second later. "Ah, good morning, Mash. Can I help you?"</p><p>Mash looks both worried and cagey in the doorway, and carrying a tray. "Um ... Da Vinci said you might have forgotten to have breakfast. So — here you go."</p><p>She brings in the tray to set it carefully on his desk, and Romani grimaces. He had kind of forgotten to eat this morning, huh. "Thanks."</p><p>"You're welcome," she says softly, and doesn't move, fiddling with the ends of her sleeves. "Um ... I heard that you looked like you had a good time with David last night."</p><p>"It wasn't exactly in my schedule," Romani admits, eyeing her over the tray as he picks up the chopsticks Emiya seems to be trying to get everyone in the habit of using. "Mash? What's wrong?"</p><p>Mash takes a deep breath and lets out it with her eyes closed, the way she does when she's bracing herself; and when she opens them, she's wearing the determined face that always follows. "Doctor. Can I — I'd like to talk to you."</p><p>... Oh, no. Romani's heart seizes. "Did Da Vinci tell you this would be a good time to ask about the sex talk, because —"</p><p>"No!" Mash look startled before her cheeks flame hot. "Is — is that why Senpai wanted to talk to you the other day?!"</p><p>Oh, boy. Now both of them are blushing. Romani clears his throat. "I'm not at liberty to discuss private conversations with my patients?" he tries, and Mash giggles, muffling it in her sleeve. Romani smiles crookedly. "So not that, huh?" She shakes her head, hair flying. "Okay. Good. Um — that's a conversation I still owe you, just not ... now. Why don't we sit down, then?"</p><p>He motions toward the low sofa behind the door. She's not using crutches — she's healed enough to get away without them, at least in the vicinity of the infirmary, where her room's located — but that doesn't mean she should be neglecting to take things easy. Anyway, it ... reminds him, a little, when they'd sat together on her bed while he was explaining things to her that no one had bothered trying to explain before.</p><p>"Only if you promise to eat while we do," she says, giving him an admonishing glance that she wouldn't have dared a few years ago. Laughing softly, Romani picks up the tray to follow her around, lowering himself carefully. This sofa's never been high enough for his long legs ... he still has to tuck them under. It feels like home. He sets the tray firmly on his knees and uncovers the bowl. "Okay. What's up?"</p><p>For some moments Mash is quiet, fiddling with the laces of her hoodie. Romani lets her sort her thoughts in favour of eating.</p><p>"I was just wondering," Mash says finally, while Romani is squinting down at the dregs of the soup, "whether you, um, had any ideas about my, um ... state."</p><p>— Ohhh. In retrospect, that makes a lot more sense than the sex talk. Romani nods a little to himself. "Well, Da Vinci was pretty explicit in her latest reports," he says, and can't help but sound amused, "but to be honest, I think she's wrong about some of it."</p><p>"Like what?" Mash asks, her tone anxious, and Romani smiles at her as encouragingly as he knows how.</p><p>"Galahad's motives," he says simply. "I don't think he left just because — I think he left because he felt he was leaving his legacy in good hands. I think he left because he felt like he was no longer needed."</p><p>"Oh, but he is!" Mash bursts out, and tears fill her eyes so fast that the sight of them tugs <em>hard</em> on Romani's heart, so he can't help but put his arm around her. "I can't even use magic! I can't fight, at all! I haven't been able to help Senpai — the only time I've been out of Chaldea is during Ishtar's race! I must be such a burden ..."</p><p>"No more than I was," Romani says quietly as she sniffs and then frowns, just as suddenly.</p><p>"Don't say that," she says, and tugs on her sleeves, hunching in under his arm. "I know that ... we weren't always kind to you ... but —! You're the one who kept us together."</p><p>He hadn't doubted. He hadn't ... recently. But hearing her say that he matters makes warmth bloom in his chest anyway. "If you don't like me saying things like that," he says, "then imagine how much I dislike hearing you say it too."</p><p>She blinks startled as he gets up to put the tray on his desk, sparing her a few minutes to digest that before he comes back and sinks back into the sofa and tuck his long legs under. "Oh ... I never thought of it like that before."</p><p>"Listen, Mash," Romani says quietly. "I haven't really done right by you —" Her head snaps up, her eyes half-covered by hair but her mouth open in an impending objection. Romani holds up his hand. "— as someone with a full life. Because of your circumstances, and because of the Grand Order, there's a lot of things you deserve which I put aside. I didn't think there would be time, or I didn't think it would become applicable ... or I just didn't want to cause you pain. And one of those things is that I didn't make sure that you knew you aren't just a weapon."</p><p>Her brow furrows. "I don't understand."</p><p>"I didn't have a lot of leeway," Romani admits. "Everyone knew why you were born, and what for. It's not totally my responsibility ... maybe not even mostly." Maybe. It's really hard to shake off the feeling that it is. "But, Mash ... just because you were born to be a demi-Servant doesn't mean that's all you are. Just because you can't fight like you did with Galahad's heart doesn't make you a burden. Look at Da Vinci. Does she have less worthy as a Servant just because she doesn't go in the field much?"</p><p>"No," Mash says slowly. "But, Doctor, she can do other things!"</p><p>"So can you," Romani says simply, and Mash's brow draws down to knit in very deep, very painful thought.</p><p>"Do you mean ... the Orteneus project?"</p><p>Romani freezes, and something in him turns to ice, and he can feel his expression falling into — something. Something that isn't that blank smile, anyway. "Did Leonardo tell you about that?"</p><p>Mash shakes her head, looking up at him with startle in her eyes. "No. The director did, before he died."</p><p>Malisbury had told her. Even as far back as that, <em>Malisbury</em> had — of <em>course </em>he had. Romani takes a deep breath and has to get up, to pace across the room and then back again. He knows that he can't be helping Mash's fears at all, but — <em>damn</em> Malisbury, anyway! He's the one who'd made her for a weapon. He's the one who'd created life and declared it fit for only one purpose —!</p><p>"Doctor?"</p><p>Mash's voice is small, and Romani turns and manages a smile, and knows it's the blank one. "I'm fine," he says calmly, in the tone that means he's <em>not</em> fine, but damn it if he's not going to pretend he is. "I didn't realise Malisbury told you about that, that's all."</p><p>"Is it so very terrible?" Mash asks.</p><p>Romani draws a breath and then lets it out in a long sigh that makes him slump. It doesn't totally drain him of the hard knot of frustration under his ribs, but that's an old feeling when it comes to this subject. "That's not ... Mash. The Orteneus project is just one extra step in the process of creating an unthinking weapon."</p><p>"Malisbury said it would help me keep up with normal Servants, as a demi-Servant," says Mash, and though her tone is confused, her eyes are steady on him.</p><p>"Malisbury was a modern Clock Tower mage," Romani says shortly. "Eccentric as far as the Clock Tower is concerned, but still a Clock Tower mage. None of them think of Servants as anything <em>other</em> than weapons."</p><p>"He didn't think of you as one," Mash says, and then realises she said it and goes pink about the cheeks. "I mean — um. W- well ... he sponsored you and everything ... right?"</p><p>Romani scrubs his face. "Malisbury was a great man," he says quietly, "but that doesn't equal a great human being. He was the kind of person who could give with his right hand and take with his left, and see no conflict in that. When I was his Servant, he used me as a Clock Tower Master would. When I —" Crap, his throat's closing up. "When I incarnated, he was as generous as he could be within his means. I'll always be grateful to him for giving me the opportunities he did. But I know that that generosity was at least partly, if not mostly, driven by the knowledge that keeping me close and happy would only benefit him. And even then, he forgot who I was."</p><p>Mash's eyes are wide and she's leaning forward. Romani doesn't think she knows she is, or realises the curiosity is written so largely on her face. He guesses he can't blame her ... this is something she must have been wondering about, and he knows the exact nature of his relationship with Malisbury had been the subject of a great deal of gossip within the facility.</p><p>"How could he forget?" she asks earnestly.</p><p>"He assigned me to you," Romani says quietly, "and thought nothing of it." He barks a laugh, doesn't mean to — but it's there, and harsh on his throat. "The day you and I met, after I left you, I stormed straight to his office, and he — he looked <em>surprised</em>. He didn't know why I was angry. He'd seen me as an unthinking tool of magecraft, and then he saw me as a shattered human being. He forgot —"</p><p>His throat closes and Romani looks away, blinking.</p><p>"He forgot that you'd been a king," Mash supplies softly.</p><p>"That's right," Romani answers, just as soft, and his voice scraping.</p><p>"Is that why the experiments stopped?" Mash asks, still hushed, and Romani's heart wrenches again. He looks back, and tries to smile, but he can tell it doesn't quite come out right. Or at least — it doesn't come out reassuring. Maybe grim.</p><p>"I reminded Malisbury," he says, "that there was nothing to hold me to Chaldea except for a hope in a future I wanted to see — and if his actions denied the very hope of that future, then I would have no reason to stay, and no hesitation about leaving." Even though he hadn't been a mage anymore, even though he'd been relatively powerless in the face of Malisbury's wealth and magic — Malisbury hadn't forgotten the treasure of insight and knowledge in him, or at least that of the ring on Romani's finger.</p><p>"That <em>was</em> when they stopped," Mash murmurs, but mostly to herself, even though her eyes are on him, and brimming with tears. Her smile is slow-growing, but beaming despite the tears. "Everything changed when you became my doctor, Doctor. Everything." She lunges suddenly from her seat, and before Romani actually realises what she's doing or can tell her to be careful on her ankle, she has her arms around his waist, her face pressed into his chest. "Thank you."</p><p>Crap, now <em>he's</em> going to cry. Romani wraps his arms around her, swallowing back tears and probably not doing a very good job of it. "Always," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "I — I wasn't lying, in Jerusalem, Mash ..."</p><p>When he'd said she was the first person he'd ever loved, to know what it is to do so.</p><p>"I know," she whispers into his coat, and her arms squeeze, but she doesn't let go afterward, and his coat gets steadily damper.</p><p>"Anyway," Romani says roughly down at her head, resting his hand on the back of it. He almost can't breathe ... he'd never dared to do anything so paternal before. It's unethical, it's poor judgement — a doctor caring too much. There's some expectations about being a doctor he's always thought are pretty dumb, to be honest ... even when he's not sure if he's right to think so. "The Orteneus project — it would help you be able to fight again, Mash. But it would compound the lies that Malisbury, that the Clock Tower, have already told you. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that the Orteneus armour was Malisbury's ultimate goal, and you're merely the frame he needed to put it on to make it work."</p><p>"I understand," Mash whispers, and she trembles under his hand, so that Romani unthinkingly holds her tighter. "But — if that's true — then I don't know how I can be of help to Senpai ... I d- don't know how —" She buries her face more deeply into his chest. "I don't know how you bore it, Doctor, having to watch us leave — again and again — while you remained behind ..."</p><p>"Ah, well ..." Romani smiles brittlely, even with his heart in his throat. "It's a little easier for cowards, I think."</p><p>Mash shakes her head, furious despite that she doesn't lift it. "You aren't a coward. I know that you ... that it was hard for you. My room is in the infirmary, remember? I know that you spent hours here, not sleeping ... to watch over me ..."</p><p>... Oh.</p><p>Now the tears start to fall on his cheeks, and Romani takes a deep shuddering breath. "Ah, I thought I'd been more subtle than that ..."</p><p>"I don't want to feel that way forever," Mash whispers, and her grip on his coat tightens. "I don't want to ... to always be the person left behind. But ... if I can't protect myself, let alone Senpai ... then how can I go?"</p><p>For a few moments they stand there in silence, with Mash's breaths hitched and trembling, and Romani unthinkingly stroking her hair even as his cheeks itch for his own tears. He only speaks when Mash's shoulders start to settle.</p><p>"You go as a backup Master," he says, and Mash looks up at him, blinking and flushed and wet-eyed.</p><p>"But I —"</p><p>Unthinkingly again, Romani cups her cheek to brush away tears, and his chest clenches at the fact that he can <em>do</em> this, that he doesn't have to keep the distance of doctor and patient between them forever — that he doesn't have to keep the gloves on, always. "Your magical circuits don't work because they've never had to do it without help before," he says. "Mine have been similar. They never had to <em>do</em> anything without the rings; but they <em>are</em> separate. And it's the same with you. You had them before Galahad. You just never got to use them without machines or mystic codes."</p><p>He'd seen her file, before him. He'd had to. Every minute of her day that wasn't sleeping had been tests and training — even if they hadn't called it that. Optimising her body, optimising her functions — half the reason for her ill health had been due to all extra crap they kept doing to try and make her the perfect host for a Spirit Origin. Even her magical circuits had been tuned and refined, as much as possible.</p><p>It would be a lie to say that Romani looked at her and hadn't seen someone in the same position as him. The only difference is that his Master had been — well, something far grander than even Malisbury could claim.</p><p>"If that's true," Mash says finally, and slowly, as if she's really trying to believe it. "If that's true, then — how do we make them start working again?"</p><p>"I expect if you truly needed to, you'd get them working," Romani says quietly.</p><p>"I didn't against King Gilgamesh," she says miserably, and Romani's smile this time is resigned and wry.</p><p>"Ah, yes — but you firmly believed Gilgamesh was trying to help, didn't you?"</p><p>"Well ... yes ..."</p><p>"There you go." Gilgamesh would absolutely have killed them — but Mash, in her heart, after spending so long with Gilgamesh as an ally, couldn't have believed it strongly enough to bring out her power as a demi-Servant. "Even if you did manage to switch to your demi-Servant form, you'd be weaker than you're accustomed to. A lot of that power was Galahad's. And creating an artificial Servant was essentially Malisbury's goal. So I think we need to go a different route."</p><p>"Then how ...?" Mash sounds distracted, her head turned into the palm of his hand, and her breath is a startle of warmth on his wrist as she takes it to look at it. "Do you mean — like your tattoos ...?" Romani flinches, and for a moment can't say anything. Mash bites her lip. "S- sorry ..."</p><p>Romani takes a deep breath, and tries to smile again. "Ah, don't worry about it. It's not like all tattoos like this have to ..." Have to reach inside and be engraved on a person's heart, or come with a side of execution. "It's a possibility," he settles for saying. "But it wouldn't be my first choice. I think, instead, we should get you into the summoning room. You know the Servants around here very well, you know the rituals — it's your shield which filled the gap in the technology. I think we could get your magical circuits working by having you take over the daily summonings for a while."</p><p>They don't always yield Servants, and even then, often it’s just someone who'd been lurking around in their spirit form for a little too long, reminded of their contract. Otherwise summon are just an excess of power, gathered from whatever cracks of the universe had spare. But it's required maintenance to keep the dais's systems working, and if nothing else the fact that it's built on Mash's shield means she already has a connection to it.</p><p>"Do you think that would work?" Mash asks, sounding both doubtful and hopeful, and Romani's smile settles a little better as he tweaks her hair.</p><p>"Yeah, I do. And it's probably a good idea to get some extra physical training, too. A lot of your physical strength was also Galahad's. The only way to make it yours is to work your body."</p><p>Mash hesitates. "I haven't ... um. I haven't done ... much of that."</p><p>Yeah, she probably hasn't. Most of her life she's been too ill. Even when Romani was able to stabilise her enough to leave the infirmary and join the staff, she's been told she needs to rely on the Spirit Origin inside her to be of any worth. And that's the problem. That's the crutch.</p><p>And it's a crutch that only Mash has — look at how many other pseudo-Servants Chaldea has. It’s not <em>that</em> much different. Look at Professor Velvet! Zhuge Liang hadn’t exactly stuck around either. The truth is that most of Mash's physical issues are because of genetic tinkering and the actions of the scientists who made her. Romani'll be damned if he lets that continue now she has a life to live.</p><p>Very carefully, Romani hugs her around the shoulders. "Then I think it's time to start. You aren't in the infirmary because you're still sick, Mash."</p><p>It's her room. She could leave it for another room if she wanted, especially if she stops relying on Chaldea's systems as a demi-Servant and starts relying on herself as a mage. Right now the only reason she's limited to the infirmary is because ... well, everyone told her she is. Even him, by not saying differently.</p><p>"Oh ...." Somehow, Romani's not surprised by the startled, discomforted wonder in that sound. "I didn't ... It didn't occur to me that I didn't have to stay in the infirmary."</p><p>"Maybe a little while longer," Romani admits, "but only because you're still relying on the equipment to keep you calibrated as a demi-Servant. If you were a mage, there wouldn't be a problem, see?"</p><p>"I see," she says, and she's smiling the small radiant dawn of a smile. "I think — I might — I think I might like to try, Doctor."</p><p>The last comes all in a rush, as if now the idea's brewed a little she really needs to get <em>started</em>, and Romani laughs a little. "Okay. Then why don't you ask Ritsuka if you can shadow her on her summoning today, if she hasn't done it yet, and I'll put something together as a kind of mini-curriculum?"</p><p>Leonidas would definitely volunteer to train her, but Romani's pretty sure that's not the kind of training Mash needs. She needs something — versatile. Something that teaches her how to be adaptable, instead of the rigidity Malisbury cultivated. Something that shows her how to use what's around her ...</p><p>... Crap.</p><p>"Doctor?"</p><p>Romani grimaces and tries to smile at once, and Mash shoves her sleeve to her mouth to hide the giggle — badly. "Ah, just a question ... does Lancelot know about Galahad?"</p><p>Mash's back tenses up under his arm, her face torn between condemning and stricken. "Um. I don't think so. Da Vinci and I haven't ... discussed it. Um. With anyone else." Her brow draws down. "Part of me isn't sure why he'd care ... But ..."</p><p>"But?" Romani prompts.</p><p>"Well, there's some things Da Vinci and Merlin —" Romani's heart does a traitorous, stupid little skip. "— said while you and Senpai were in Jerusalem ... You were supposed to be resting, so I don't know if you heard ..."</p><p>"I don't think I did," Romani admits. If it's related to the Knights of the Round — well, there'd been one conversation related to the Knights of the Round, and everyone had basically told him to shut up and nap for a bit. He remembers hearing the conversation, vaguely, but hadn't paid much attention.</p><p>"Merlin said that —" Mash's voice drops, and she finishes mostly into Romani's shoulder. "— that Sir Lancelot was, um, raped?"</p><p>"If Merlin says it, then there's no one else who'd know better," Romani says quietly, "but you don't need his opinion. No matter the exact details, every story agrees that Lancelot didn't have sex with Galahad's mother consensually." There's a difference, between having consensual sex and having it consensually with a specific person; and as for being drugged, there's just no consent there at all.</p><p>Mash looks absolutely miserable. "But then ... Galahad's feelings ..." She rests her forehead against Romani's shoulder. "I feel so terrible for the way I treated Sir Lancelot, now. If all that's true, then it must have been terrible for him to have to look at her. To even look at Galahad ..."</p><p>"Galahad's a boy who missed his father," Romani says softly. "Who heard tales of him being strong and just and true, only to be met by someone cold and unfeeling, when all he wanted was some warmth — some acknowledgement. I understand how he feels."</p><p>Mash stirs with a sound of comprehension. "That's — it's not quite the same, is it?"</p><p>"For the sons, there's no difference," says Romani simply. "For the fathers, maybe. Lancelot's got better reasons for being a terrible father than David did, by some standards." Some people would claim 'running a kingdom' is a pretty good reason, but a lot of David's actions hadn't had much to do with responsibility. "If Lancelot committed a sin against his son, it's only that he didn't accept the responsibility to explain his feelings, and why he found being a father so difficult. A son can't be responsible for that, so taking on that burden relies on the father." He swallows hard. "And I understand ... why that would have been hard. Especially if he expected condemnation anyway. Especially if he believes he deserves that condemnation." Absently Romani runs his fingers down Mash's back, as much to soothe himself as Mash, and takes a deep breath. "I think the most tragic thing about Galahad leaving you is that — now neither of them will get that chance."</p><p>Thinking about it makes something sharp twinge in his chest. To not have that chance, to look his children in the face, to figure out whether he could have loved them — that's a burden Romani's going to bear for a long time. How much worse for Lancelot, knowing the chance had been there, and squandered?</p><p>"Oh ..." says Mash again, softly and thickly, and grips his coat tighter to bury her face into it. He's pretty sure it's getting damp again. "Why did you — um. Why are you asking about Sir Lancelot, Doctor?"</p><p>"I think he'd be the best person to train you," Romani admits, "and I wasn't sure how much pain that would cause." For Mash. For Lancelot. Having him forever believe his son's just a hall away, within someone else's heart — is that more or less cruel than telling him his son is gone, possibly forever, in favour of Romani's daughter?</p><p>Romani doesn't know. Something about the very idea of it all puts a squeeze in Romani's chest. He hadn't been able to stop himself from comparing himself to Lancelot, after Camelot ... hadn't been able to stop measuring them against each other, not knowing if it was in contest or sympathy. Sometimes the way Mash had spoken to him hadn't been much different to how she'd spoken to Lancelot, as the holder of Galahad's heart.</p><p>Mash doesn't raise her head, her voice coming muffled. "And now?"</p><p>"I think if it's the only remaining chance Lancelot has to offer a legacy to his son's memory, then we should give it to him."</p><p>For a moment Mash doesn't answer, but then she takes a deep shuddering breath and nods into his coat. "I think so too. Please — please ask him for me, Doctor?"</p><p>"I will," Romani promises quietly, and strokes her back again, just in case that was helping somehow. Mash doesn't pull away, so maybe it does; and you know what, Romani's pretty okay with just standing here for a while before he has to open his laptop up again. It wasn't all that long ago he'd thought Mash was dead. It wasn't all that long ago he hadn't dared to hug her, just in case it made everything that much more painful for whoever died second.</p><p>This is the chance Lancelot won't get again, the one Romani never had with the children of his first life. He isn't going to waste it now.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The knight of the lake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eventually Mash does leave. Eventually. Romani suspects they're both loathe to let go for the same reasons — he's certain of it, in fact, because once Mash's tears wind down she turns her head to rest her ear against his chest, and he can feel the weight of it over his heart. He's pretty sure that was on purpose.</p>
<p>But eventually someone knocks on Romani's door, and there's always things to be done. He's going to get really tired of people who keep trying to have showers off-roster, or going to rooms they <em>know</em> have been closed down for good reason. Seriously, there's a point where someone's sniffles is just a matter of stupidity.</p>
<p>At least the conversation with Mash has given him enough to think about that Merlin's response, or lack thereof, doesn't get much space in Romani's head for most of the day. Lunchtime is the worst: but he goes out to the cafeteria and leaves his laptop behind, and spends some time eyeballing the spiffy new 'kosher' section of the buffet table before spitefully going for the bacon. If the Lord really cares <em>that much</em>, He can damn well say something.</p>
<p>That afternoon is harder. Romani has someone to talk to, so he actually leaves the infirmary at a good time instead of forgetting; but the gym is one of the places currently off-limits for anyone not trying to repair the wall and environmental systems. Romani's just as glad not to have to go there again, but it also means he has really no idea where Lancelot might be lurking. He doesn't loiter around the cafeteria like Gawain, or stalk the musicians in the common-room like Tristan; and he's just as likely to be alone as in company, unlike Bedivere.</p>
<p>"If I were a camera-shy, guilt-ridden knight, where would I hide?" Romani mutters to himself as he wanders through Chaldea, and then immediately feels very stupid.</p>
<p>There isn't much of a chapel, in Chaldea. Mages aren't exactly known for their faith in anything other than themselves and magic. That's something Romani doesn't like to think about with too much depth, especially given how blurry the lines have become between his gift of magecraft and his current — uh, status. But not everyone in Chaldea is a mage; many of them are ordinary citizens, drawn predominantly from Britain and Europe. The chapel is supposed to be non-denominational — Malisbury hadn't seen the need to hire a ministers to actually <em>tend</em> it — but <em>non-denominational</em> still pretty much assumes <em>Christian</em>, and so do the homelands of most of the staff.</p>
<p>Romani's never actually entered this room, not once ... not even during the Grand Order. He knows where it is — mostly for the purposes of giving it a wide berth. Anyway, it's not like it's built for him.</p>
<p>Going there still feels like he has to drag his feet through mud every step of the way, and from clear down the hall he can hear Lancelot's deep voice murmuring. Somehow, Romani doesn't expect to come to the door and see him in prayer with one of the staff who hadn't been present during the Grand Order. He's not even wearing the linens he and the knights usually wear on the daily, but an even simpler robe; it takes a solid minute for Romani to remember that, for the bulk of his life, Lancelot actually had been a brother at a monastery. It's hard to remember, when those years got such short thrift compared to the 'excitement' of his early life.</p>
<p>Quietly Romani leans against the jamb and waits, opting to take in the chapel instead of staring. It's actually bigger than he thought it'd be — cosy. Maybe room for a half-dozen pews, twice as many people, with curtains to soften the walls. A good size for a small handful of volunteers to manage. Malisbury hadn't been religious, but he at least understood that some people need it.</p>
<p>Still overtly Christian, though. The altar, the cross. But there's something in the air, a scent that's familiar — not quite discernible over the flowers.</p>
<p>... Where had Lancelot gotten flowers? Romani doesn't remember hearing anything about the hydroponics bay being up and running.</p>
<p>"— for ever and ever. Amen."</p>
<p>"Amen."</p>
<p>The man to which Lancelot is ministering lifts his head with a brave kind of smile. "Thank you, Father."</p>
<p>Romani looks toward the ceiling and focuses on it, very hard, so he can't hear the ensuing conversation. It's not the usual bare ceiling Chaldea's rooms boast. Someone's painted it, in the last few years ... someone whose name is no doubt Da Vinci. It's the same hand that had painted the room of her studio. Actually, it's the same painting it had been before the sun replaced it.</p>
<p>There's a stirring of movement and clothing, and Romani absently steps aside to give space for Lancelot's — parishioner? — to leave. And then he can't ... look down again. This is already so incredibly awkward.</p>
<p>Lancelot clears his throat. "May I help you — Doctor?"</p>
<p>He says the title tentatively, and Romani really doesn't know whether that's because Artoria's spoken to her knights or because he just can't imagine why the Hebrew king would be in a Christian chapel. Romani drags his gaze down with a breath, and the fact that Lancelot looks just as awkward as Romani feels really doesn't make him feel much better.</p>
<p>... The man who'd just left doesn't know who'd been ministering to him, does he? Like this, Lancelot doesn't look like a knight, or even a Servant. He's not hiding his face, but his physique is concealed behind robes, and there's an evenness in his bearing that isn't present while he's armoured. A lack of tension. And, of course, Lancelot's stories do say he prefers to keep his actions anonymous.</p>
<p>"I wanted to talk to you," Romani says finally, realising he's been silent for way too long, despite Lancelot's unmoving patience.</p>
<p>That revelation doesn't make him move an inch, either, though his tone is cautious. "All right."</p>
<p>... Crap. Romani hadn't actually thought about what he's going to say, or how to <em>start</em>. He blows out a breath and rubs his eyes, and comes further into the room. "It's about Galahad."</p>
<p>At that, Lancelot sighs, and turns toward the altar, setting things right from his ministration — or maybe just finding excuses to focus on something other than Romani. "So he is gone."</p>
<p>Romani pauses halfway down the pews. Okay, that's not what he expected. "You knew?"</p>
<p>"I felt something different about Lady Mash of late," Lancelot says neutrally. "I had thought, perhaps, that ... he left in order to prolong her life. That would be the sort of thing he'd do."</p>
<p>... That hadn't occurred to Romani at all, and now he feels like a heel for having to burst that bubble. "I haven't read Da Vinci's report about the Temple yet," Romani admits, trying to ignore the gnawing in his chest, "but her notes and Mash's recollection suggests an outside force. I don't doubt that Galahad would make that choice — but I think it's more likely that he ... felt Mash didn’t need to rely on him anymore."</p>
<p>"That also sounds like him," says Lancelot softly, and he rests his hands on the altar to look up at the cross. "Is that what you wished to tell me?"</p>
<p>"I wanted to ask if you'd be willing to train Mash."</p>
<p>Oh, good, Lancelot <em>can</em> still emote while he's in this room. He turns with clear surprise and consternation on his face. "Me?" he asks, somewhere between condemning and distraught. "Surely there's far more appropriate trainers. Ones which aren't such an — emotional burden."</p>
<p>Is this what it feels like to talk to him, Romani wonders. Watching the obvious evasion, the unveiled attempt to wriggle out of something — the fear avoided. It's kind of annoying. It's even more annoying that it's <em>Lancelot du Luc</em>.</p>
<p>... Just like it would be annoying if it was King Solomon. Crap, this <em>is</em> what it feels like to talk to him, isn't it? No wonder Gilgamesh had stabbed him.</p>
<p>"You," Romani says firmly, and finishes coming down the aisle so they can stand together before the altar, though Romani keeps his gaze on Lancelot's face rather than the cross. Lancelot doesn't look back. "I know you can make anything that falls into your hand a weapon — or even an empty palm, at need. Mash was born and raised in a laboratory for a single purpose — to be that weapon. Lacking Galahad's strength, the normal course of her development would have meant the application of a mystic code designed to make up for the shortfall; but that maintains the dependence on something other than herself. I want her to learn versatility. I want her to know that she can choose anything that comes to her hand."</p>
<p>"And yet," Lancelot says still without looking, "you'd still have her pick up a weapon?"</p>
<p>"Mash wants to fight, to protect others," Romani says quietly. "If the weight of Galahad's shield is too great a burden, then she needs a lighter one. She can't find that unless she gets the opportunity. You won't be training her to kill, Sir Lancelot. You'd be training her not to, with all the tools she has at her disposal — a frail human body, lacking even a Spirit Origin."</p>
<p>There's a very long silence. Romani watches Lancelot's face, the way his brow knits; the hauntedness in his eyes whose source, once upon a time, rainbow clairvoyance would have whispered aloud. Romani doesn't have that help here — but he still remembers, most of the time, how silence is golden. And how hard silence is, when there's no stillness in a soul.</p>
<p>"Does Lady Mash know that you're asking me this?" Lancelot asks finally.</p>
<p>"Yes," Romani says simply, and sees the way Lancelot's eyes crimp, a hoped-for escape denied. Romani really might have to thank Gilgamesh somehow ... just imagining how he would have been without that intervention makes Romani hate himself a little. Or a lot. He'd been that person already, after all — during the Grand Order. He'd just ... never realised how <em>transparent</em> it could be. "You didn't think she'd agree for it to be you."</p>
<p>Lancelot chooses his words carefully. "I didn't doubt the strength of the feeling Galahad shared with her."</p>
<p>"Speaking as a son with a highly disappointing father," says Romani as evenly as he can manage, "that kind of feeling wouldn't exist unless there was a yearning for the father's love to begin with. If you want to punish yourself, Sir Lancelot, that's your choice; but when your self-punishment demands a silence and inaction that punishes others too, well — I guess I just don't think that's very chivalrous."</p>
<p>Lancelot flinches and opens his mouth, and nothing comes out.</p>
<p>Is this a good time to turn and walk away? Force his hand, make him choose — or would that be cruel in this instance? Maybe cruel no matter what. Would it be <em>effective</em>?</p>
<p>That's too much thinking, Romani decides; and he does turn, but only to sit on the nearest pew, and watch Lancelot wrestling with his invisible demons by the altar. The knight rests his hands on it, hangs his head; and Romani hears soft words, pleading but without benediction, until they trail off.</p>
<p>When he speaks, it's sudden, and raw, and Romani suspects that tears might be happening — but he's not about to get up to look. "I never knew what to say to her," Lancelot says. "She isn't my child, even if she carries — carried — his heart within her. If I spoke, would I simply be burdening her, an unrelated innocent, with a sinner's regrets? Would my son hear it? Do I have that right, to expect that she could absolve me, just for bearing his heart?"</p>
<p>"If you really wanted the answer to that question," Romani says directly, "all you had to do is ask her."</p>
<p>There's a beat of silence, and then Lancelot laughs softly toward the altar. It's the kind of laughter that's thick with tears. "You <em>are</em> wise. I'm beginning to wonder if all those stories were nothing more than you holding a mirror to a supplicant's unworthy soul, to force them to see all their unworthiness, and where it hides."</p>
<p>"Ouch," Romani mutters, and slumps back against the pew, wriggling. Ow, this is uncomfortable, and not just the pew. "That's only two steps to the side of 'cruel, but honest'."</p>
<p>"I understand why it would be said."</p>
<p>That does stab, but it hurts less than it did when it was David saying it in the Third Singularity. Maybe it's true. Maybe ... maybe that's what Romani's good at. Maybe people need someone to blame for the cruelty of having to look themselves in the face and know they're unworthy. Too bad Romani needs someone else to do it for him ...</p>
<p>... Maybe that's why he and Gilgamesh Saw each other, after all.</p>
<p>Lancelot exhales shakily and straightens, and doesn't turn; and Romani looks up at the ceiling so he can pretend he isn't seeing Lancelot have to clean his face. "I'll do as you ask," Lancelot says softly. "I'll train Lady Mash. If you can provide me with a schedule, I'll make sure someone can be here in my stead, when I cannot."</p>
<p>"Who else comes?" Romani asks, and it's a moment of unthinking curiosity he almost, almost regrets a moment later. "I mean ... well, Georgios and Marta and Jeanne, obviously."</p>
<p>"The other knights, if no one else," Lancelot says. "My king, sometimes — though often to attend in the back during Mass, more than to care-take. Lord Amakusa, often. Sometimes King David comes, at least to offer the peace of music."</p>
<p>"— He does?" Romani can't even remotely keep the surprise out of his voice, doesn't know what to do with the stab of — of something. Discomfort, maybe. Shame, probably definitely.</p>
<p>Lancelot smiles wryly without turning. "He says it's no synagogue — but then, he had no synagogue in the hills where he tended his flock."</p>
<p>... Yeah, that's <em>definitely</em> shame, and Romani looks away.</p>
<p>"I didn't know," he says quietly, as if that isn't already obvious. He'd taken what Emiya said to mean that — what? That David had just stopped bothering with some of those rituals, like he had? That he could feel okay about not doing anything himself, if his father didn't? As if doing as his father did had <em>ever</em> meant following the right path ...</p>
<p>Damn it. These were the exact feelings he been avoiding Martha to <em>escape</em>. And now it's going to be <em>entirely</em> too obvious that <em>he's</em> running away if he gets up and leaves — so Romani stays where he is, looking blindly into the corner and sitting in the uncomfortableness of it all.</p>
<p>"If you wish to leave," says Lancelot eventually, and softly, "I have no mirror to hold, to make you look."</p>
<p>Romani laughs softly, but it isn't really humoured. "Ah, never mind. I've got my own." Just the fact of <em>knowing</em>, being <em>asked</em>, is sometimes enough. It feels really unfair. But he gets to his feet, because it's easier to escape if it's been noticed that he wants to, anyway, and manages to look Lancelot in the face — which he's pretty proud about, actually. "But thanks, anyway. I'll get back to you on a schedule. I assume I can find you here, a lot of the time?"</p>
<p>"Most of the time," Lancelot echoes, and hesitates with a breath that doesn’t sound totally planned. More blurted-out. “Doctor —”</p>
<p>Romani stops and glances at Lancelot’s face, and hesitates. Ah, is that something he really wants to hear? Well, it looks pretty painful. After a moment Romani sits again, watching as Lancelot frowns, and turns to gaze back up at the cross. “If I may,” says Lancelot eventually, and softly. “My king mentioned that you have been — speaking — to Merlin?”</p>
<p>That is <em>not</em> what Romani was expecting, and he exhales. “Trying.”</p>
<p>Lancelot nods, as if this too isn’t news, and doesn’t turn back around. “The stories don’t specify,” he says, “but the Lady of the Lake with whom Merlin dallied was my foster mother.”</p>
<p>Romani absorbs that, that answer to a question he <em>had not wondered</em>, and manages not to laugh hysterically. “That would’ve been awkward,” he says with as much diplomacy as he can.</p>
<p>“No more than your own mother’s circumstance, I should think.”</p>
<p>Ah, that is true. His family is special in their ongoing drama … only actual gods can top them. Still … Romani shakes his head. “Why are you telling me this?”</p>
<p>“You know that there are some stories which claim it was my mother who imprisoned Merlin, as punishment,” Lancelot says steadily, and <em>still</em> doesn’t turn. “There is some truth in that. Not completely — but enough.”</p>
<p>“I still don’t know why you’re telling me this.”</p>
<p>“Because Merlin hurts people,” Lancelot says simply, and <em>now</em>, finally, Romani notices that his hands are tightly clenched. “He cannot — seem to help it. He was our friend … but it’s hard to know that a man with a demon’s heart stood by and let us fall, and did nothing. My mother couldn’t forgive it. I cannot blame her.”</p>
<p>Ah, crap, why does Romani keep winding up having these conversations? Should he feel lucky he escaped Tristan and Bedivere in the lounge? He probably should. He rests his head back with a thunk on timber, and winces. Ow. “Artoria already warned me that Merlin has difficulties communicating.” Lancelot’s laugh sounds like it’s unintentional, and a sharp, nearly bitter bark of a thing. Should Romani tell him what Artoria had said, about knowing — no. That’s between the Knights of the Round. Instead he says, “It’s not the fault of his demon side, you know.”</p>
<p>… He hadn’t meant to say that, but now it’s out, it’s out.</p>
<p>“Is it not?” Lancelot asks, and Romani shakes his head, still resting on the narrow edge of the pew’s back.</p>
<p>“No. Demons feel. They feel a <em>lot</em>. They feel so much that they can’t help but act. If Merlin didn’t change anything, it wasn’t because he was being spiteful. It’s because he was afraid, and that’s a very human emotion.” Romani mulls that over, staring up at the starscape on the ceiling. “And if his clairvoyance is anything like mine — he may have known he couldn’t do anything to change the future. In which case, why would he put himself through the pain of trying?”</p>
<p>“That cannot be it,” Lancelot says forcefully. “It <em>cannot</em> be —” He swallows hard, so hard Romani sees it in the cord of his neck. “To claim that our future is immutable — that we all would have made the same terrible choices, no matter what — I cannot accept that. I will not.”</p>
<p>Romani smiles wryly. “Imagine having to see it. To look back and wonder … <em>is</em> there anything I could have done? Would it have made things worse, or better? And what of those who follow, who needed the fall? I had to watch Israel ground into the dust, and bear it.”</p>
<p>Lancelot’s shoulders coil under his robe. “I didn’t mean to —”</p>
<p>“I know you didn’t,” Romani says quietly. “But when you judge Merlin, just remember that that’s probably what he Saw: the people in his life, juxtaposed against the great turning axis of human history, and losing. When he runs, it’s not because he doesn’t care. It’s because he does, and it hurts.”</p>
<p>He gets to his feet again, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince. Ow, ow, ow. Why had he done that? That <em>hurt</em>. “Anyway. I — appreciate you trying to warn me, I guess. But I know what I’m walking into.” Perversely, it making him feel <em>more</em> determined. Is that usually how it’s meant to go? Romani doesn’t know how he feels about that. “If there’s nothing else …?”</p>
<p>Lancelot shakes his head, almost convulsively. “No,” he says, and his voice is raspy. He can’t seem to unwind from where he stands, not enough to bow or turn to look at Romani — ah, but that’s okay. It’s been a hard, awkward conversation. Romani still doesn’t expect him to add, “… Thank you.”</p>
<p>"I don't know what you're thanking me for," says Romani as he turns to walk down the aisle between the pews. "I'm just a cruel, honest man."</p>
<p>It doesn't even come out bitter when he says it, but he doesn't look around as he lifts a hand in farewell, and escapes that oppressive room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Royal ambitions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning there's still no reply waiting from Merlin, and this time Romani isn't even surprised. The hurt's still there, somewhere, but it's dulled by slowly developing irritation, spiteful obstinance, and a keen awareness that, whatever mirrors he does or doesn't hold, right now Merlin is being a <em>stubborn jackass</em>.</p>
<p><em>Merlin,</em> he types, <em>it's rude to refuse to answer someone who's trying to talk to you.</em> He stops. Drums his fingers on the desk. No, Merlin'd probably <em>love</em> that. Damn it, it's already sent. <em>Just in case you really did miss the first one, I'm not angry about </em><span class="pwa-mark decorator"><em>Magi*Mari</em></span><em>. I don't want to talk just to yell. <br/>
</em></p>
<p>But he might if Merlin keeps being stupid.</p>
<p><em>Please reply,</em> he adds, belatedly; and luckily for him, before he can keep typing, or has much trouble trying to get himself to <em>stop</em>, an IM from Da Vinci pops up.</p>
<p>
  <em>got an hour this morning?</em>
</p>
<p>An hour, huh? That's kind of not encouraging. Romani sends back a confirmation that he's on his way and closes the laptop to leave. He's in his office already, in the infirmary: he hadn't even had the burning need to check <em>right away</em>, before he left his room. He doesn't like that. It means there's resignation happening.</p>
<p>Maybe Da Vinci was right. Maybe all this really was a mistake ... maybe this counts as trying, and if he stops, it'll be okay.</p>
<p>Except —</p>
<p>Except that he still doesn't have an answer. And Romani's finding that he doesn't <em>like</em> not having answers. It's bad enough when his clairvoyance is around but spectacularly unhelpful — he hadn't missed it hadn't shown <em>once</em> during his conversation with Lancelot. But to have <em>Merlin</em> refuse to answer? That's just — <em>rude</em>.</p>
<p>And more than that, the fact that Artoria <em>and</em> Lancelot had tried to warn him off … when it was just Artoria, it was scary. But Lancelot too? That’s just ... Romani doesn’t have to take that. From anyone. He doesn’t have to accept people telling him what to do, whether or not that’s what they meant.</p>
<p>"Hah! I've found you!" Romani whirls with a jolt and <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span> grins, her otaku cape flaring dramatically as she strides toward him in the hall. "I've come with a challenge, Rosy-Posy."</p>
<p>Oh. Romani blows out a breath, rubbing his chest. "And it had to come with you scaring the hell out of me?"</p>
<p>"I'm an Assassin, it's what we do," she says with a shrug, and promptly stumbles over the end of her cape. She snatches it around herself, her cheeks heating, and coughs. "So, um. Guitar Hero challenge, yeah?"</p>
<p>Romani tries, very hard, not to laugh. He actually regrets it; killing the laughter is way too easy, and it had been a genuine one, too. "Ah, it'll have to wait."</p>
<p><span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span> scowls. "What! You're ghosting me <em>already</em>?!"</p>
<p>"No," says Romani bitterly, turning toward Da Vinci's workshop again, "but someone's ghosting <em>me</em>, and I'd give you a pretty poor showing if I tried to take you on now."</p>
<p>"<em>Seriously</em>?" She skips to keep up with his longer legs, relaxing some of the tautness on her cape. "Who's ghosting you? Where? Why?"</p>
<p>Romani spends about two seconds debating, and then folds. "Ever heard of Merlin?"</p>
<p><span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span> snorts. "Have I <em>ever</em>. World's oldest shut-in — hah! The world didn't begin over on the British Isles, you know!" She falls contemplatively silent, her eyes narrowed slits, and for a few halls it's actually — kind of nice, to be walking with someone without something urgent happening in the conversation. Then <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span> says, "You know, I bet we could get 4chan to <span class="pwa-mark decorator">dox</span> Avalon."</p>
<p>This time Romani can't even begin to stop his laugh, and it sounds as alarmed as it does amused. "Um, I'm not sure that's a good idea."</p>
<p>"I'm serious," <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span> insists, skipping ahead of him to walk backwards, and look alarmingly earnest up at him. "If he's ghosting you, that means he's got internet access, right? And Avalon's, like ..." She motions with the whole of her arm. "On the underside of the world, yeah? Doesn't sound much different."</p>
<p>For just <em>one</em> second, just <em>one</em>, Romani tries to imagine the entirety of the internet turned to the purpose of exposing Avalon's seedy underbelly, and shudders. "Oh, I believe you could <em>do it</em>. I just think it's a bit, uh, steep as a punishment for the crime. At the moment."</p>
<p><span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span> scoffs. "<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Fiiiiiine</span>. But don't think you can use this as an excuse to put off me kicking your ass forever."</p>
<p>"I won't," Romani promises, and really doesn't know whether to smile or not as she whirls to depart down an adjoining hall, her cape flaring dramatically. The smile wins. Honestly, the bat-hood is just ... too cute to be dramatic.</p>
<p>It only wins briefly, but at least there isn't far until Da Vinci's workshop. It's the kind of room that doesn't allow for eavesdropping, mostly thanks to Da Vinci tinkering with the door, so it's not until Romani swipes it open that he hears Holmes talking. Oh, this is <em>not</em> going to be fun.</p>
<p>"You called?" Romani asks as he comes in, and both of them cut off.</p>
<p>"Ah, Romani," says Da Vinci with one of her most manic smiles — the one that says things are going<em> really </em>badly and it's only encouraging her. "I have some bad news."</p>
<p>Romani stands there and absorbs that, and doesn't know if he's surprised about feeling a total <em>lack</em> of surprise. "Okay," he says simply. "About what?"</p>
<p>"Remember how you said you wanted to stop lying to everyone about who you are?"</p>
<p>Okay. Well, it's not about Mash, it's not about Ritsuka, and it's not about Merlin, but Romani can't quite relax his shoulders. "Yes?"</p>
<p>"I had Holmes lie to everyone about who you are," says Da Vinci with that same undying manic cheer. "Some people were asking questions about that <em>argument</em> you had with Gilgamesh — well, suffice to say that Holmes went around subtly dropping rumours that the reason you're alive and looking different is because you've become a pseudo-Servant, and we don't know who with."</p>
<p>This is something <em>more</em> of a surprise, and the urge to laugh comes and goes so hard and fast that Romani almost feels like he's gotten whiplash. "Okay," he says slowly. "Why?"</p>
<p>Holmes clears his throat. "To be quite blunt," he says with that annoying, dainty precision, "we thought it was the safest and most useful response."</p>
<p>"Useful for what?" This time Romani can't help the bite of impatience. If one of them doesn't start to <em>actually explain</em> why they went ahead and took actions totally contrary to his wishes —</p>
<p>"Romani," says Da Vinci, and now she's not smiling, and she's <em>not</em> cheerful, "the Mage's Association is trying to <em>buy</em> Chaldea."</p>
<p>Romani stares. Something ought to have cracked somewhere, he's sure. "The Mage's Association is —"</p>
<p>"Not all of it," Da Vinci says, "but they're leveraging authority to get the <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Animuspheres</span> to give up their rights to it, and demanding all kinds of audits and whatever —”</p>
<p>"In effect, they're performing a hostile takeover," says Holmes, and Da Vinci throws him an irritable look. "They have been for months, even before Shinjuku. Most likely it'll be bought by one of their rich young lords, someone pliable —"</p>
<p>He keeps talking, but Romani stops listening. The Mage's Association is <em>buying</em> Chaldea. No, not buying — <em>taking over</em>. Invading. That's why so much of the staff had gone, even after humanity was restored. That's why Da Vinci's been so careful about withholding the administration from him, until she's sure he'll be okay to hear it. That's what she'd been so angry about yesterday, about some new development she didn't want him to know about ...</p>
<p>If the Mage's Association gains control of Chaldea in its entirety, they won't be as restrained as Malisbury was. They won't care about the sanctity of human history, of the lives of the people in it. It won't matter to them to maintain whatever integrity Chaldea still had, for the sake of humanity as a whole — Chaldea would become an arm of the Clock Tower, and all that entails.</p>
<p>Clarity is rainbows drawn sharp like glass, and there's the shatter.</p>
<p>"No," he says, and it seems to come from deep inside him, a reflex of a denial. Holmes cuts off. "No, they're not taking Chaldea."</p>
<p>"We haven't had any way to stop them," says Da Vinci, and the note in her voice is very nearly gentle. He looks at her stonily. "We're only Servants, Romani. Without humans in charge, without a director, Chaldea can't function long-term. And if the <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Animuspheres</span> don't want to touch it, there's nothing we can do."</p>
<p>Those are facts, not manipulations. She's not cajoling; she's not asking anything. Just stating what is.</p>
<p>"Where's Malisbury's will?" Romani asks, and his voice is still flat, still — <em>hard</em>.</p>
<p>"Malisbury died nearly seven years ago," Da Vinci reminds him, and Romani still hates her tone — like she isn't sure whether he's going to break apart or not, but just short of actually coddling him. "His will has been long since processed. Everything went to Olga."</p>
<p>"But Olga never made a will of her own," Romani tells her.</p>
<p>"So all rights revert back to the <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Animuspheres</span>."</p>
<p>"Oh, I see," Holmes murmurs, and Romani smiles grimly.</p>
<p>"Not all of them."</p>
<p>It had been Malisbury's backup plan, his final wish — he'd given everything to Olga, because she was his child and she deserved that much. But Malisbury had also known that, if something happened, if Olga was assassinated or killed, the <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Animuspheres</span> would need to execute the most recent legal document, and that was Malisbury's will — as long as Olga never made a will of her own. And she hadn't. The young never think they'll die — and the ones afraid of dying don't want to look at the potential. Malisbury had known that. Seven years old or not, Malisbury's will is still the most recent binding document relating to Chaldea's fate, upon the deaths of its directors.</p>
<p>Da Vinci's eyes light up and she spins on her chair, and Romani finally comes more properly into the room. His steps feel stiff and entirely too even — everything feels <em>rigid</em>. But he's breathing, and there isn't a vise in his chest, which is probably a good thing ...</p>
<p>A few too many rainbows around for him to settle.</p>
<p>"A<em>ha</em>!" Da Vinci exclaims. "Cagey <span class="pwa-mark decorator"><em>culo</em></span> — ooh, if I could still get my hands on him!"</p>
<p>"You'd do what?" Romani asks in spite of himself.</p>
<p>"Well, it'd involve a lot more than the lecture Merlin got, let me tell you." But she's beaming as she swivels. "Congratulations, Romani! You are <em>officially</em> director-apparent of Chaldea!"</p>
<p>"That <em>does</em> make things simpler," Holmes says thoughtfully as he gets to his feet to peer over her shoulder. "How quickly can you make that go through, Ms Da Vinci?"</p>
<p>Da Vinci hums. "Well, the fastest way would be to point out to the <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Animuspheres</span> that little clause, and then they'd need to look at their own documents to verify it. The difficulty is that they're going to demand Romani proves his identity, and you don't <em>exactly</em> look the same. Still ..."</p>
<p>"Pseudo-Servants aren't unknown by this point," Holmes murmurs, flopping back in his chair and putting his fingers together. "Malisbury's own research makes that clear, and they all date before the Grand Order. Of course, <em>someone</em> is liable to attempt a claim that it's related, given how it came about ... and if they at all attempt to use non-magical courts to resolve the case, which I imagine they can as long as no details about Chaldea's nature comes out, all they need is to request a blood-test to prove that you aren't Romani Archaman. I assume you <em>have</em> had such tests?"</p>
<p>Romani nods silently, and Da Vinci scowls. "Oh, that's annoying. Why couldn't Merlin have used some of your <em>reborn</em> blood when he put you back together? Maybe they still match. Let me check."</p>
<p>They all know they're not going to match exactly, but now that she's spun around and her head's out of the way, Romani can see the will properly, and laughs softly. "Did you finish reading this, Da Vinci?"</p>
<p>"Hm?" She looks up, eyes narrowed. "No, just the part that mentioned you by name. Why?"</p>
<p>Romani sighs heavily, but he's smiling, and he's not sure if he wants to or not; not sure if he feels relieved and pleased, or annoyed. "I never told you that Malisbury was one of my descendants, did I?"</p>
<p>Her eyebrows shoot skyward. Holmes looks thoughtful. Romani likes to think that stands in for being surprised, where he's concerned.</p>
<p>"So that's how he came into possession of the ring," Holmes murmurs.</p>
<p>Romani nods. "I couldn't see this far into the future, not with any detail. The one thing I could rely on was my direct bloodline. Malisbury's grandmother was Jewish, whose distant family had left Israel during the diaspora. I sent my ring ahead, as far as I could, tracing that line."</p>
<p>Da Vinci laughs and it's a full, wild laugh of delight. "Ah, Romani — so what you're telling me is that we <em>can</em>, in fact, prove that you're an <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Animusphere</span> blood relative? Let me see that again!" She launches herself across the room to peer at the will, her expression concentrated and gaze greedy. She hums, full of delight. "Ah, and Malisbury<em> knew</em>, too!"</p>
<p>"I told him," Romani admits. "He hadn't known who he'd summon, as Master — and from what he said, the ring had simply appeared one day among the other artefacts in the <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Animusphere</span> estate. He asked about it, during the war. And afterward, he knew that if I wanted, I could retake my original body."</p>
<p>Neither of them knew what would happen if he did, if it meant Romani would become a Heroic Spirit once more, or be human-made — maybe nothing more than a homunculus. But even homunculi bleed, and the fact of the relation was there, and Malisbury had used it. He'd known that if anything happened that involved his death, it might be bad enough to force Romani's hand. That's what he'd put into his will: not only Romani's name, but the blood-tie, and the specifications of their relationship as sponsor and ward. There's no one else who could match those circumstances, name or no name.</p>
<p>"Linking name and blood might be a <em>little</em> much for the courts to accept," Da Vinci says, "but if you, say, went directly to the <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Animuspheres</span>, and showed them your blood-tie, and asked to keep Chaldea ... hm, hm, no, that wouldn't work. The connection may be far too distant for them to accept." She scowls, gone very suddenly from glee to frustration. "And he's made this <em>far</em> too complicated — it's either one or the other! And we've already said you're Romani Archaman!"</p>
<p>"What did the blood-test say?" Holmes asks in the tone of a man in a deep, deep hole. "How many similarities are there, between the doctor's blood before, and his blood now?"</p>
<p>"Hm?" Da Vinci breaks away from the screen like someone coming up for air, but Romani's already behind her, looking at her database for the comparison she'd neglected in favour of the will. He's startled by the way his heart pounds, and the knots in his stomach; what's he expecting, exactly? Similarities? No similarities? There weren't blood-tests in Ancient Israel. He has no way to know how closely they'd match to how he'd been ... and what are the odds?</p>
<p>But the comparison shows a match, one so close that it makes Romani have to sit heavily as his knees buckle and his throat closes up. It's ... identical. Or nearly identical — the difference between monozygotic twins. Identical enough for a DNA test.</p>
<p>Identical enough that no one could claim he isn't Romani Archaman, no matter what he looks like.</p>
<p>"Romani?" Da Vinci gets up and comes to peer over his shoulder, and Romani can almost <em>hear</em> the blink. "Ah. Hm. I didn't know that was possible. Is this magecraft?"</p>
<p>Romani's closed throat opens on a watery, scattered laugh, and he shakes his head. "No. It's — really, <em>really</em> rare ... but it's pretty well-known that sometimes twins, even identical twins, can turn out to have different colouring ... and still look the same. I've heard of it before."</p>
<p>He just hadn't thought ...</p>
<p>That he'd be the same. That, no matter what, Solomon or Romani — his blood would be the same. His chest feels tight, and he knows his cheeks are wet; but there's heat in it too. He doesn't — he doesn't know if he's happy or not. He doesn't know if this is just one more nail in the coffin of never escaping, really ... or if it validates that he's always been the same person, that Romani is just as real and true as Solomon had been. He just knows that he's <em>feeling</em> a lot about it.</p>
<p>... It's kind of painful. At least he's still breathing.</p>
<p>"Well, then," says Da Vinci cheerfully. "It looks like we won't have any issues, will we? Hah! So much for Malisbury needing to put in all those safeguards — you're both Romani <em>and</em> a blood relative, how about that?"</p>
<p>"Hmm." Holmes peers over both their shoulders. "The only risk here is that they attempt to claim you <em>are</em> your identical twin — but there are no records of it, none at all, and it's a claim that would be quite easily destroyed just by giving you an interview and asking you questions only Romani Archaman would know. About your schooling, for example. And the blood connection <em>would</em> neatly explain to anyone who questions why Malisbury was so intent on sponsoring you. Very tidy; I was expecting a sibling similarity, at best. I couldn't have planned it better!"</p>
<p>He sounds smug, as if he <em>had</em> planned it. Romani rolls his eyes, and hears Da Vinci's exasperated sigh which means she's rolled hers too.</p>
<p>"This doesn't quite solve everything," she says briskly, digging her elbow into Romani's side until he gets out of her chair so she can plop down. "It <em>does</em> mean they're going to put you through the ringer — tests, interviews, every hurdle they can throw in your way. You'll need to attend the Clock Tower, at the very least. We might do well to change some of your records, if we can — if they're using a non-magical court, it'd be for the best if we can make you look like you looked the same when you were in school ... though I suppose we could claim you dyed your hair and got a tan, no one in the Clock Tower's good at telling ethnicity from skin-tone. Hm, hm, hm ..." She scowls. "This would be a lot easier if I had a certain internet-fluent half-incubus at my disposal!"</p>
<p>Ah, that makes the tightness in Romani's chest <em>worse</em>.</p>
<p>"It also doesn't solve the immediate probably of the audits," Holmes adds, going to arrange himself back in his chair. "Like it or not, Chaldea is still subject to economics. Without Clock Tower funding, we can't survive, and the UN is starting to get cold feet now as well. Even if you prove your right to control the facility, they could still stop us simply by denying us money."</p>
<p>"Then we'll remove ourselves from their sphere of influence," Romani says, and wonders if he really said it. There's an idea blooming, a terrible, wonderful idea; and he can't tell if it came from the quiescent rainbows still lurking in the walls, or from something deep in his subconscious.</p>
<p>Da Vinci swivels in her chair, eyeing him suspiciously. "How?" she demands. "It takes money to run this place — and power! So much <em>power</em>, Romani — <em>why are you laughing</em>? — Oh!" He laughs <em>harder</em> at her look of realisation, very nearly pop-eyed with glee and delight. "Can you <em>do</em> that? Of course you can do that! You aren't the father of magecraft for nothing!"</p>
<p>Romani holds up his hand, trying to catch his breath, and nods. "Ars Paulina's not doing anything right now," he says. "I can't <em>move</em> it — it's been where it is for too long — but it's still connected to me, and I should be able to tie that connection in with Chaldea's generator." Even now the spellwork's unfolding in his head, and now he <em>knows</em> there's a clairvoyant whisper — but it's quieter than it was when he was king, something so close behind his ear it's in his head, and more like a prod to spill out something that he already knew. "I'll need your help — and everyone else's, I think. We'll need to re-engineer a lot of those systems. But at the end of it, we won't need any of the nuclear power we've been depending on; and that prevents anyone, UN or Clock Tower, from threatening us with our most basic runnings."</p>
<p>They both pause, and look at him sidelong. He looks back, blinking. “What?”</p>
<p>“Are the rings still there?” Holmes asks, very polite-crisply, and Romani draws in a breath. Oh.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he says simply, and looks at the screen so he doesn’t have to look at them looking at <em>him</em>. His stomach rolls uncomfortably.</p>
<p>“Could you retrieve them?” Holmes prompts after a moment.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Romani answers, “and I don’t care.”</p>
<p>“Ah,” Holmes murmurs, and Romani hears the flip of his pages and the scratch of his pen as he makes some note or answer. Da Vinci clears her throat.</p>
<p>"What about the financials?" she demands. "After all, everyone here needs to be paid."</p>
<p>"They don't,” Romani tells her, trying to bring his mind back to this and not to — that. “Not really. Not if we set things up correctly — Chaldea can provide everything its residents need. Anyone who wants paying work can go elsewhere — let's be honest, the Clock Tower will be angling for that. We'll let them have whoever they want. Anyone who wants to stay and work, with the understanding they'll get free food, board, and training, and the experiences of a lifetime, can stay. If we can, we can work out a shareholder cooperative system, or something like it — so they still get something for their commitment, even if not a usual wage."</p>
<p>"That still cuts out those with families," Da Vinci observes, and Romani shakes his head.</p>
<p>"Anyone who has a family and wants to bring them here, can."</p>
<p>"And that won't leave us with much in the way of staff," Da Vinci says next, eyes narrowed. "I don't know about you, but populating this place with Servants doesn't seem like a long-term sustainable business practice! Though it would save on the food cost, I suppose."</p>
<p>Romani laughs softly and shakes his head again. "Then we'll go to those the world ignores," he says simply. "Who in the world is in desperate need of food and shelter, Da Vinci? Who wants for training, for somewhere safe for their families?"</p>
<p>Da Vinci pauses. Holmes lets out a small chuckle. "Ambitious," he says. "Messy, but ambitious. Even Chaldea can't house all the world's refugees — there isn't the space."</p>
<p>"No," acknowledges Romani, "but we can house some. The ones with skills we need to make Chaldea self-sufficient — the farmers, the weavers, the tailors, the salt of the earth. Anyone who can help us ensure we aren't reliant on the outside world for trade or capital. And the rest, the ones we can retrain or re-skill for our equipment — the engineers, the scientists, the medical staff. Anyone who has family, can bring them, and we'll house and educate them — free. All free."</p>
<p>They'd need to get the hydroponics bay up and running again, as soon as possible — and start writing processes for all the internal needs. The quartermaster will have to be someone dependable and trustworthy, beyond reproach. The living areas will need to be reorganised for families ... and find whatever they'd once had on Malisbury's plans for an in-house academy. And teachers — they’ll need teachers.</p>
<p>"I didn't realise you still had so many latent urges for kingship, Romani," says Da Vinci, but it's singsong and viciously delighted, and Romani's face slowly heats.</p>
<p>"It's the most logical thing," he says, a little defensively. "The UN is forever trying to get nations to fulfil their humanitarian responsibilities — well, we can. It gives us credibility; it shows we're willing to step up on the international stage, on our own merit. If the Clock Tower thinks it can leverage capital to make us fall in line, we'll remind them that the British Empire collapsed long ago. We don't <em>need</em> them. The Clock Tower isn't used to not being <em>needed</em>." </p>
<p>"And you'd be perfectly happy to take it down to its foundations?" Holmes asks, and Romani doesn't answer — not at first. He draws a breath and exhales slowly.</p>
<p>"Yes," he admits quietly. "The Clock Tower is ... everything terrible about magic, all the worst things I Saw come true — when I look at it and it alone, I understand how the 72 could gaze upon the works of mages and condemn humanity. But the world is not the Clock Tower, however much they like to think they pull its strings. It's about time someone reminded them of that."</p>
<p>He looks up from the floor, toward them both. Da Vinci he knows, but Holmes — Holmes he has to study a little more closely. This is the man who'd warned Ritsuka not to trust him, and for good reason ... but does he <em>care</em> about humanity, about shifting the course of a juggernaut, or simply watching its path and the destruction it leaves in its wake?</p>
<p>"Can I count on your help, for that?" he asks softly. "The dead cannot lead the living, but I ..."</p>
<p>"But you aren't dead," Holmes says simply, "and while I'm not precisely a God-fearing man, in your case — I do have to wonder." He smiles suddenly, a face-breaking grin of a scientist with something new to study. "It <em>would</em> be quite a caper, however!"</p>
<p>Romani turns his gaze toward Da Vinci, and she harrumphs. "You even have to <em>ask</em>? I'm Leonardo Da Vinci! A second chance to change the world, to prove my genius through the ages — ah, what better second chance could an artist get?" She swivels on her chair, too fast to see Romani's smile breaking across his face. "Now, where's that email? I'm going to tell some people some things, oh yes I am! Romani~?"</p>
<p>"Mm?" Ah, he's still smiling, and it still might be breaking his face, as she spins back around.</p>
<p>"Bring Merlin here already, will you?" she orders. "This will be much, <em>much</em> easier if we have another reprobate at our disposal!"</p>
<p>"Working on it," Romani promises, and even the reminder that Merlin's being a complete and total asshole doesn't make the smile fade.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The twin thing is Tru Fax(TM). The genes which control appearance are so superficial that it's been known -- rarely, but in multiple instances -- for identical twins of mixed ethnic background to have completely different skin/hair/eye colour and still be genetically identical.</p>
<p>Given that that's possible, I saw no reason for Romani's DNA not to be the same regardless of his colouring, given the grail had Malisbury's example to work with.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Teacher and I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It turns out that their conversation takes a <em>lot </em>longer than an hour. Romani suspects Da Vinci thought she'd need to give him time to process — and honestly, Romani would have assumed the same thing. There's a part of him that still has trouble thinking of himself as decisive, when he'd spent so much of the Grand Order trying to deny who he'd been.</p>
<p>But it means they can get the bulk of the initial planning out of the way. As much as Romani doesn't like them going behind his back, Da Vinci and Holmes had done the right thing in keeping his cover. Right now, the Mage's Association doesn't deserve to know who he is — and as long as they don't know it, it's another card up their sleeve, along with Holmes's very existence. Romani only spends a little time wondering how the detective had managed to drop those rumours without revealing himself.</p>
<p>The most difficult part about enacting any plan for self-sufficiency is that they need the capital in order to become self-sufficient. Most of the funding they have goes into Chaldea's day-to-day — there just isn't anything left, and that's with cutbacks. A loan just wouldn't cut it; no bank in the world would finance it. Romani has some money stowed away — he hadn't exactly had anything to spend his wage on, and Malisbury hadn't held him to a debt — but it isn't nearly enough to cover the sums they need.</p>
<p>Actually, he'd left it to Mash ... but Da Vinci, shifty-eyed, confessed she hadn't executed his will. Romani doesn't know whether to feel irritated by the presumption or warmed by the implicit hope in the denial. Mostly, he rolls his eyes and sighs heavily until Da Vinci is <span class="pwa-mark decorator">splutteringly</span> defensive, just because he can. Because her hope, after all, was justified. Just like his had been, in leaving it to the one person who was likely to die before him.</p>
<p>It's okay. Romani has some ideas.</p>
<p>He winds up having to leave them both in deep conversation about how to enact all those little moving parts, in favour of the infirmary; but the rest of the day his mind is full, and turning over every possibility. It doesn't stop for all that long overnight, either. He sleeps — a little. Some. Mostly the next morning he has a desk full of sketches to deliver to Da Vinci's workshop, so she can see what they'll need to remodel the generators.</p>
<p>And an open laptop, on the utter lack of response from Merlin, which Romani spends some not inconsiderable time contemplating. Long enough for someone to ping him — long enough for it to be Osakabehime, which he registers with some distant surprise.</p>
<p>
  <em>he answered yet?</em>
</p>
<p><em>no</em>, he types back.</p>
<p>
  <em>offers still up</em>
</p>
<p>Romani smiles despite himself. Ah, it's the worst idea, really. There's no way it'll end well. <em>i have another idea</em></p>
<p>
  <em>TELL</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>every shutins worst nightmare. im going to drag him out of his room</em>
</p>
<p>'Bring him here', Da Vinci had said. Not <em>convince him to come</em>, or <em>get him to visit</em>; she'd said <em>bring him here</em>, as if Romani has both the right and the ability.</p>
<p>He does. That's the thing. He very much does.</p>
<p>A ping. <em>can i watch!!!!!!!!!</em></p>
<p>Romani laughs properly this time, and doesn't answer in favour of tabbing back to Da Vinci's IM service. <em>Merlin,</em> <em>if you don't answer by 8pm Chaldean time I’m summoning you here forcibly.</em></p>
<p>And he closes his laptop. He's on the late shift today — it ends at 8. It's a conveniently threatening time, and hopefully means that, whatever happens, Chaldea's halls will be a little emptier than usual. Romani smiles grimly. Merlin's lucky for that much dispensation, after the utter stupidity he's been showing.</p>
<p>For now, Romani's going to stop off at another door a few halls down on his way to breakfast, the rolled-up designs under his arm. He has to press the doorbell twice before finally Lord El Melloi II, Waver Velvet, opens it. Stares at him for a second, and then grunts and goes back into the room without an audible invitation. But he leaves the door keyed open, so Romani steps in and presses it shut.</p>
<p>"If you're busy, Professor Velvet, I can come back later," he says without thinking, and then stops and laughs at himself. Across the room, leaning hip against the desk, his old Clock Tower professor gives him the kind of stink-eye only the students with the stupidest answers ever received.</p>
<p>"Don't call me that," he says shortly, flicking the lighter in his hand. It's empty. It's been empty for months. Chaldea, as a facility, is too dependent on closed systems to allow smoking indoors — though that hadn't stopped Velvet from smoking outside of it. Servants can handle the cold. Inside, he has an empty lighter and an unlit cigarette to soothe him. "We both know that of the two of us, there's only one who has the right to teach the other."</p>
<p>Romani smiles wryly. Is that what this is about? Maybe he shouldn't be surprised. Waver Velvet hadn't been a personal tutor, or even a close professor; Romani hadn't been one of his favourites, even though Velvet had been one of his. Until the day Velvet showed up at Chaldea on Olga's invitation to witness the first leyshift, Romani hadn't even known the man remembered his name. To find out, after everything, who he'd had in some of his classes — it must have been a shock. To understate it a little.</p>
<p>"Ah, but that's not true," Romani says. "I didn't know anything about modern magecraft, or how it's used. You're the only professor I had who said anything worth listening to."</p>
<p>There's a moment of rippling emotion across Velvet's face, and he slants his gaze away so he doesn't have to look at Romani while it happens — as if that would stop Romani from seeing it.</p>
<p>"I used to think I didn't need that kind of approval from anyone anymore," he says, and ends on a breath as if he means to say more — but doesn't. Maybe he doesn't have to — the 'except <em>him'</em> is nearly audible.</p>
<p>All the students had known Lord El-Melloi II had gotten his title by distinguishing himself in a Holy Grail War. They just hadn't known which one, or where, or when, or how. But Romani had wondered — by the nature of the books he'd had on his shelf.</p>
<p>"It's true, though," Romani says quietly. "I knew the Animuspheres were eccentric — I just thought they were eccentric for their insularity, the way they viewed the world in terms of status and power plays. Arriving at the Clock Tower was a shock." To say the least. He knows he wasn't the only new student who wound up crying in their room for the first month, even if he was unique in his reasons for it. And he hadn't even studied there full-time. He couldn't have — he had no magical circuits, and was only there thanks to Malisbury to begin with. "You gave me hope that magecraft as a whole hadn't become corrupted. That there are still mages, even now, who work for the benefit of humanity, and not their own."</p>
<p>"For all the good it's done," Velvet says, and it tries to be sharp but it's more than halfway gruff, as if he's trying to push away the sincerity because he doesn't know what to do with it.</p>
<p>"I wasn't there for a full education, but I was there long enough to know the impact you had on a wide swath of the students," Romani tells him. "I want to use that impact. Are you still alive?"</p>
<p>"What?" Velvet's startle shows first, eases fast into thoughtful contemplation. He clicks the lighter again, turns the unlit cigarette between forefinger and thumb. "Yes. There's no records of my sustaining an injury during the explosion, and I kept no scars. Even my magical circuits haven't fundamentally changed; they're simply better at utilising what they have. — You already know all this."</p>
<p>The conclusion is abrupt, an attempt to end Velvet's own detached recitation, and Romani nods. He does; he'd performed the physical. When he'd finally had a chance to return to the summoning room after guiding the girls through Fuyuki, the lack of a body told him the last-ditch summon ritual had worked — but until the Second Singularity, Romani hadn't had a clue what had happened to Velvet. There shouldn't have been a reason for the ritual to make him discorporate. But he'd been there, in one of the Singularities, dazed about his exact time and circumstances, but as sharp-minded as he'd been when he taught: and remembering more, once released by the grail.</p>
<p>"I've made contact," Velvet goes on. "Given the state of affairs between Chaldea and the Association, no one objected to my staying on. But unless someone tries to summon Zhuge Liang for some bizarre reason, there's nothing stopping me from returning to my old life." He stops then, frowning as he turns the cigarette between fingers. "Barring any ridiculous surges of magic returning me to my youth again, the only thing I <em>don't</em> know is whether I'll die at the end of it. Do you?"</p>
<p>"No," Romani admits. "I didn't know what would happen to me either. Mash, obviously, could have. Your situation could go either way." Not incarnated, but if he'd been summoned and contracted by a grail then he's more like a Servant than is comfortable; but then, by the same token, so many of his processes remain human, and Zhuge Liang had apparently done little to those. He could age and die and go to the Throne as some amalgamation. He could age and die and Zhuge Liang would be released to the Throne alone. Or neither, and only leave this world when his contract with Chaldea ends. It's hard to say.</p>
<p>"Hm. I suppose it's not worse than dying before ..." Velvet's mouth twists, and his gaze slants sideways. This time Romani looks, without turning, without telegraphing. Flung on the bed is a rumple of crimson and gold, with a furred ruff. "A moot point in both senses of the phrase, I guess. What are you planning?"</p>
<p>"I want to shatter the Clock Tower," says Romani bluntly. "I want to break it down to its roots and liberate all the future generations it intends to crush under its weight. That monstrosity isn't much different from a demon-god pillar — the only difference is that a demon-god pillar is capable of <em>caring</em>."</p>
<p>Velvet laughs, looks startled at how genuine it sounds, and ends it on a scoff. "If you'd said that while you were still my student, I'd have told you to take a good look at the result."</p>
<p>"I graduated," says Romani dryly, but he's grinning back, at least for a few seconds. "I'm serious. The Clock Tower's a monolith that thinks it's a fulcrum. The world is <em>meant</em> to change. It's <em>meant</em> to move away from what it was in the past. You said you're here because of the conflict between Chaldea and the Clock Tower. Do you know their plans for us?"</p>
<p>"I've heard some things," Velvet acknowledges grudgingly.</p>
<p>"It wants Chaldea because it thinks it <em>deserves</em> Chaldea," Romani says. "I thought we'd start by proving that it doesn't, by making Chaldea sovereign."</p>
<p>Velvet snorts, and rolls his eyes, but the end of the roll falls on the cloak on his bed. "Only a king would think a major discriminatory conflict could be solved by creating a <em>nation</em>." His gaze snaps back. "You're going to need capital for that. And people. I suppose I do know a number of students and lesser mages who dislike being ground beneath the Clock Tower's heel. The hard part will be proving to some of them that they have another option."</p>
<p>"If they don't want to be convinced, don't bother," Romani tells him flatly. "Any numbers unfilled by refugees from the Clock Tower, we'll fill with refugees from elsewhere."</p>
<p>"Such as?"</p>
<p>"I thought I'd start with Syria," Romani says simply, "and move on from there."</p>
<p>There's a long moment when Velvet looks at him, and Romani's not sure what's on his face. Velvet's too closed a man, spent too long among greedy mages, to let emotions show plainly. But there's something there — and it niggles not to know what it is.</p>
<p>Finally Velvet says, "We."</p>
<p>Romani blinks. "Hm?"</p>
<p>"We," Velvet repeats. "Unless you intend to make your sovereign state a monarchy, and there's too many kings around here for that to end well."</p>
<p>Romani snorts a laugh. "Ah, that's true." Especially with how he intends to talk his next target into helping. "Incidentally, that's my plan for capital. The younger ones are pretty poor, but the older ones still have some wealth. I thought I'd go around hat in hand."</p>
<p>This time it's Velvet who snorts. "I'll talk to the conquering idiot for you," he says, jabbing his cigarette at the bed as if Iskandar is currently sitting on it. Maybe, in a fashion, he is. "The rest are up to you. <em>Don't</em> blow holes in the walls again. A hot shower's the only real leisure to be had around here."</p>
<p>That sounded <em>entirely</em> too fond to be appropriate and Romani is <em>not</em> going to ask. But he is going to roll his eyes, turning even as he does. "Any information you get out of your contacts, take to Da Vinci and Holmes. We're not telling the Mage's Association about Holmes, by the way."</p>
<p>"Got it." Velvet puts the cigarette to his lips, remembers he can't light it, and grunts with a scowl and a sharp motion. "Get out, already. I have work to do."</p>
<p>Romani's already leaving, laughing softly as he does. That's exactly the way he'd always dismissed students at the Clock Tower, too. So much for 'don't call me that'.</p>
<p>He checks his watch. He's long past due for breakfast, and the cafeteria should be empty by now. His next target won't be in there — but that's fine. He needs the chance to brace himself.</p>
<p>Romani sets off down the hall, aiming first for Da Vinci's workshop to drop off these plans before she has an excuse to start claiming he hadn't given her enough time to look at them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I didn't like canon's handwave of 'just go with it' re Waver's circumstances, so I uh. Fixed it. &lt;.&lt;</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The conscience of the kings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The look on Da Vinci's face when Romani presents her with his initial sketches is a combination of condemnation at how little he must have slept, delight at quality material to work with, and offence that he'd worked so <em>quickly</em>.</p>
<p>"There isn't room for too many geniuses around here, Romani Archaman!" she shouts after him as he escapes, laughing, to go to breakfast. He takes it in a corner of the cafeteria, and doesn't eat much. Just long enough to brace himself for what's coming, while ignoring a handful of looks being thrown his way by the smaller, second wave of late-eaters.</p>
<p>His next stop is the simulation room, which is actually the closest Romani's gotten to the command-room since he, well ... resurrected. If he'd been thinking, he'd have expected the way his throat starts to close and his heart thuds against the inside of his ribs, but he's been distracted enough by what's coming that he hadn't. He moves as quickly past it as he can, and toward the simulator just off it.</p>
<p>It's empty, thank — goodness, and Romani turns it on to review some of the notes left in his absence and the state of the sim's maintenance.</p>
<p>... Yep. There's several bemused queries from one of the engineers about the constant draw of energy from a program they can't seem to turn off, but doesn't otherwise appear to be corrupting anything. Romani laughs softly and it comes out vaguely hysterical; so he takes a deep breath. And then another. Ah, he hates this part ...</p>
<p>He sets one of the simulator coffins to the program already running, and climbs in before he can think better of it. The lid closing over his head makes his heart jump into his throat, and Romani squeezes his eyes shut until he can feel the tears despite that, trying to swallow his heart back into its chest. Crap, crap, crap, he does <em>not</em> like this, the last time he'd voluntarily got in one of these things he'd <em>died</em> —</p>
<p>Why does Ramesses have to live <em>in</em> the simulator? Romani thought Ritsuka had convinced him to stop doing that.</p>
<p>He comes out in a rush of digital light and a burst of golden hall, already walking forward, because frankly if he doesn't he'll probably collapse bonelessly, and that would just be <em>too</em> embarrassing in this place given Ramesses is sure to know. Bonus that this is just about how Romani had felt walking into the Temple of Time ... not as bad. Not nearly as bad. But similar, with the way he has to lock his knees, and the fact he needs the numb distance just to keep walking.</p>
<p>Now, like before, the more he walks, the more the nervous tension recedes in favour of distant purpose. He doesn't much like that, either. Just because clairvoyance isn't filling the void doesn't mean it isn't reminiscence of how Romani had felt on his throne.</p>
<p>The hall opens up into <em>hall</em>, and golden throne, and Romani honestly has to wonder if it's a hallmark of kings to have the most grandiose ridiculousness possible — and he includes himself in that. It's really starting to just seem ... stupid, honestly. Especially with the fact that Ramesses feels the need to digitise blinding sunlight.</p>
<p>"His radiance, Great Pharaoh Ramesses, will see the King of Israel," Nitocris declares, grand and proud, and Romani rolls his eyes, all his anxiety suddenly popping on irritation and a supreme lack of cares to give.</p>
<p>"I don't suppose you could turn down the lights?" he says pointedly, but doesn't stop walking, right up to the throne — probably closer than Ramesses really likes.</p>
<p>"His radiant pharaoh —" Nitocris begins indignantly.</p>
<p>"Nitocris."</p>
<p>Ramesses voice is dooming, at least enough to cut her off and make her cringe, but when he sits forward he's smiling. Not that that means much. It's a very <em>dangerous</em> smile. "You're here as the doctor of Chaldea, I perceive."</p>
<p>"I'm one and the same, Ramesses," says Romani with an edge in his tone he doesn't quite try to bite back. Damn it. He takes a deep breath and starts over more calmly, "I have a proposal for you."</p>
<p>"And what is that?" It's the kind of lazy amusement of knowing that he has the upper hand — <em>thinks</em> he has the upper hand. He's sitting like he does, and you know what, Romani is <em>never</em> sitting on a throne again. It really <em>sucks</em> being on the other side of it.</p>
<p><em>Don't say something stupid, Romani. Don't let your emotions get the better of you.</em> Hah. Easy to tell himself, harder to do. "The Mage's Association is trying to take over Chaldea," Romani tells him with as even a tone as he can manage. Mostly it comes out flat. "If they succeed, they'll use Chaldea for their own ends. If they don't, they'll cripple us by cutting off funding and support, and making it difficult to trade for necessary supplies."</p>
<p>"Such is the nature of international relationships," says Ramesses dismissively.</p>
<p>"It would be, if Chaldea were a sovereign state," Romani says shortly, "which it isn't. Yet." The 'yet' gets the most attention, which Romani expected, and he pauses just long enough to make Ramesses' eyes narrow promptingly. "We can power ourselves without needing much outside input. It's the securing of supply lines and the economic dependence on paying the staff that are the issues. We can solve both, but we don't have enough money to make ourselves self-sufficient."</p>
<p>"And so you come to beg for the generosity of the Great Pharaoh?" Nitocris demands.</p>
<p>Romani doesn't look toward her. "I'm wondering whether the Great Pharaoh's claim to all the people of the world is genuine, or just a flash of sunlight."</p>
<p>"Wh- y- <em>you</em> —" Nitocris splutters, but it's Ramesses's reaction Romani wants. His face goes still and flat, his gaze cold. For all the gold of his eyes, they could just as well be ice, right now. Romani doesn't budge, or look away.</p>
<p>"Leave us," Ramesses orders, but it's the kind of sideways command that isn't for Romani.</p>
<p>"Y- yes, Great Pharaoh."</p>
<p>Romani hears Nitocris's footsteps hurry away, can imagine the glare he might be getting. He feels a pang, but doesn't stir; he actually kind of <em>likes</em> Nitocris, despite the man she's chosen to serve ... Ah, maybe it's about as much choice as Romani had, in masters. She won't eavesdrop, anyway. She's too loyal for that.</p>
<p>It's only once she's totally gone that Ramesses rises, comes down the steps of his throne at an even pace, a controlled pace. The kind a big cat has when it knows it can do pretty much whatever the hell it wants.</p>
<p>Romani's commanded big cats before. He stays where he is, and watches Ramesses come closer, until they're about of a height ... no, Ramesses is still on the first step. Romani forgot, that he was that much shorter. He's the kind of man who seems much larger than he is, even when not on the throne.</p>
<p>"You dare cast such an accusation?" Ramesses asks, very low, and while he's now smiling, it's the kind of smile with swords in it. Romani feels a trickle of misgiving, and looks stonily back.</p>
<p>"Do you claim all the world's people, or not?" Romani says flatly. "The staff we have won't stay without pay. I want to make a better offer to those refugees who can bear it, people from nations torn by war, people whose nations have rejected them. We'll need money to make that happen. If you're really their king, then there's only one answer. If not, then ..."</p>
<p>Romani shrugs and turns away, and like a striking snake Ramesses's hand lashes out to grip Romani's coat and yank him back around.</p>
<p>"<em>You</em> dare accuse <em>me</em> of lying?" Ramesses grinds out. "<em>You</em>, who are called cruel but <em>honest</em>, who claims a level of wisdom and integrity beyond reproach; <em>you</em>, who sinned against me — <em>you </em>dare?"</p>
<p>— Sinned. Against Ramesses. He <em>knows</em>. Romani really needs to back away. He really does, despite the fist in his coat, steady despite the trembling fury in Ramesses' words. Romani even thinks it: <em>walk away</em>.</p>
<p>"Just as much as <em>you</em> dare to claim you're the benevolent lord over the world?" Romani snaps. "Bit of creative editing in your memory, forgot you only decided that <em>after</em> your wild youth, decided the ones you failed didn't count?" There's a part of him that knows this is reckless and stupid, and he can't even blame this on Gilgamesh; but the more he talks, the more restraint frays, and his voice rises to shouting. "<em>You left them in the desert to die! </em>They were your subjects, <em>your subjects,</em> and you let them walk out into the desert! Alone! Unguarded! For <em>forty years</em>! What happened there, Ramesses?! Ra stop you from crossing the sea after you toppled his rule? You couldn't go after them to offer them aid!?"</p>
<p>"<em>He was my sworn friend</em>," Ramesses snarls, <em>"and you erased the memory of our friendship from history</em>! The wise king of Israel, who lied to his people — lied so deeply, so thoroughly, that <em>all the world</em> knows me as the man who betrayed his <em>brother</em>!" His voice cracks on the last word and the sound of it punctures Romani's haze of reckless abandon. He chokes hard on the words throttled in his throat, closes his lips and tried to breathe through the knots in his chest. Ramesses hisses long and low, and tugs so hard on his coat that Romani has to set his weight so as not to topple over. "You <em>did</em>!"</p>
<p>Ah, he hadn’t known. Suspected, not known, until this moment. A quick breath. One, two.</p>
<p>"I did," Romani admits, low and raw and still angry. It doesn't matter if clairvoyance told him, it doesn't matter if he had a choice or not — none of that matters, just as much as it doesn't matter from son to son whether their fathers' sins were justified. "I looked ahead and I saw that my people would keep the stories of their past so well-preserved that the world would never come out of the shadow of the Age of Gods." The sound Ramesses makes is like an enraged but wounded cat, and he shoves away from Romani to pace the lowest step, and Romani keeps talking. "I saw that as long as my people remembered that it was Ra who enslaved them, the gods would never lose their foothold. So I changed the story, I corrected the truth — I made you, who was born a mere man, the villain in Ra's stead. I did that."</p>
<p>Ramesses comes to a stop before the steps to his throne, but turned away from Romani, and with tension so wound through his back he's almost trembling with it. He breathes, deeply and slowly, if not evenly, until some of the tension eases out. "And I <em>did</em> leave them," he says, low but unbroken. "I did neglect to follow them. I looked at the remains of my nation and saw that to split our forces would be to endanger both those who went and those who remained. That to use our dwindled resources to rescue those who had left would be an open road to starvation. I left the Hebrews to the will of the desert, and denied that they should have been mine; and hoped that, perhaps, their god would protect them, as he had promised. I abandoned them. Even Moses. Even my friend."</p>
<p>And then there's silence in this golden sunlit place, all cold and sterile. Romani stares half blindly up at the throne, notes dimly that it doesn't seem nearly as blinding when Ramesses isn't sitting on it. All the heat's gone away, leaving him feeling tired and a bit sick, and hating himself more than a little.</p>
<p>— No. He'd done the only thing he could do, like everything else he'd done back then. But he does wish ...</p>
<p>Ah, wishes like that are useless. It's done. He did it. He, cruel but honest, had lied to the entirety of human history, and been believed; and he had done it at Ramesses' expense. As Ramesses, whose sun shone over all the Earth, had chosen Egypt at the expense of the Jews.</p>
<p>"You said," says Ramesses at last, as low as before and without turning, "that you would solicit refugees."</p>
<p>"Yes," Romani answers quietly. "Syria. Afghanistan. Myanmar. Iraq. Some of those names might not mean much to you —"</p>
<p>"Chaldea's systems were able to provide a wealth of information in the summoning," Ramesses says curtly. Romani nods. The internet's good for that, at least. Though now he's going to wonder how many cat memes all the Servants had downloaded into their heads when they were summoned. He might even laugh about it, later. Sure explains some things about Elizabeth, though. And Ramesses is still talking. "When you bring them here, what will you tell them?"</p>
<p><em>When,</em> Romani notes. "The truth," he says simply. "Maybe not all at once. I don't want to break them. But about magic, yes, and what we're doing, yes, and why; and I won't hide who lives here. Not even me, once the Mage's Association have lost their grip enough that I can be sure they won't find out before it's to our benefit."</p>
<p>Ramesses says nothing in response, at first, and Romani waits, watching his back, his stillness. Had Romani ever looked like that? Contemplative, but stony? No, he'd been warmer, he knows — but just as distant, in some ways.</p>
<p>"You remind me of him," Ramesses says, low and very nearly rough, and so suddenly that Romani blinks with nothing to say. "Your god cultivates sacrifice and resolve in his worthiest servants, it seems. You remind me of Moses, and I loathe you for it."</p>
<p>... Oh. "I don't know what to say to that," Romani admits, and Ramesses cuts him short almost before he finishes.</p>
<p>"Say nothing!" It's sharp, very nearly emotional in a way that's different from Ramesses' usual passion, and there's a moment when he clenches his jaw as if trying to contain his pesky human feelings. "I will have Nitocris draw up a confirmation for you to sign. As long as you do not lie, I will open my treasury to you, for the sake of my people whom the modern world has abandoned."</p>
<p>It's as clear a dismissal as if he'd said it out loud, and Romani turns —</p>
<p>Stops. He can’t ... he doesn't <em>like</em> leaving on this note. There's bitterness out in the open, and no resolution. The next time they meet, <em>if</em> they meet, isn't going to be any better. Ramesses is just as likely to hole up here in the simulator forever, if he hasn't already decided to do that since Romani left. That can't just be because the memories of Moses are close, along with regrets.</p>
<p>The clairvoyantless doctor would have left, would have bowed to the weight in the room and gone with what already was. But — what <em>good</em> is being a king, if he can't do what no one else dares, once in a while?</p>
<p>Romani turns again, and steps toward the throne, and Ramesses glances sideways to look at him, flatly impatient. "Are you dull-witted, for a wise king? Leave me!"</p>
<p>"Are you too proud to accept an offer of friendship from a man who's wronged you?" Romani asks back, and he's fairly sure the way Ramesses stills is tantamount to a blink.</p>
<p>"Are you, from one who wronged your people?" he asks, more restrained than before, almost wary.</p>
<p>Romani smiles self-deprecatingly, shakes his head and laughs, and holds out his hand. "Ah, have you met me? I have no pride at all."</p>
<p>".... Heh." There it is, a sharp-edged smile — but one with genuine amusement, however double-edged. Ramesses turns to clasp Romani's wrist, and the smile is very nearly a curl of his lip — nearly. Not quite. He tugs a little, pointedly, to draw Romani's arm taut, to stop him from pulling back. "This does not change my feeling toward you, o king of Israel."</p>
<p>Romani's mouth twists. Ah, it's the same kind of hatred the 72 had for him, really — the kind that comes from regard betrayed, from something that could have been respect — or was, in another lifetime. Ramesses wouldn't feel the reminder so keenly, if he hadn't loved Moses so fiercely. It's just ... a pity. They could have been friends, too. "I can live with that."</p>
<p>"But I may be willing to give the doctor a chance," Ramesses adds, his eyes nearly slits, and he releases Romani's hand to mount the stairs. "Now go! And send Nitocris in. We have work to do."</p>
<p>Good enough: and this time when Romani turns he feels better about walking away, less as if there's a stone still lodged in his chest. Well, not so large a one, anyway. He never banked on having Ramesses' friendship, or regard — he may not have it still. But there's a chance there, however remote; and it'll remain, for as long as they're willing to work with each other.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <strike>Nope I'm not angling for a Stargate crossover, why do you ask?</strike>
</p>
<p>I was already headcanoning this, but honestly, canon basically gave me this one. I pulled Ozy at Valentine's and his interlude explicitly calls Moses his friend, which sure makes for an interesting disconnect to popular belief.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The King of Mages</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day wears on more smoothly after that. Romani leaves the simulator feeling a bit shaky, not sure if he wants to be euphoric or hide under his desk for a while. Neither of those options are really appealing, though he'd just as soon make his legs stop shaking. At least in the infirmary he has plenty to do, and with no anxious draw to see if Merlin's responded. If he hasn't, then ...</p>
<p>Romani hopes he has. He really does.</p>
<p>Da Vinci starts pestering him early in the afternoon, not long after the start of his shift. It's mostly pings to the effect of <em>what is THIS</em> and <em>wait this can't work</em> and <em>OH I SEE NOW</em>, divorced of the context of what she's looking at in any given moment. It's entertaining, anyway, and Romani laughs softly and mostly lets her get on with it.</p>
<p>He stops laughing when she sends him the entire library of reports she's been denying him. What have they been <em>doing</em> while he's been gone?! They can't have gone to that many Singularities in his absence! <em>Ugh</em>.</p>
<p>So then he has to go through <em>them</em>, and look through the updates on everything the Mage's Association has been doing, and view the reports of all Chaldea's agents in other nations. He's a bit smug about that, and pleased that Da Vinci had kept up that particular function, even though Romani thought it would be one of the first to be cut — at least if a Clock Tower mage had been in charge. Why bother scouting, with the Clock Tower at their disposal?</p>
<p>No. These agents are good, and more importantly, they're <em>loyal</em>. Romani had picked them for a reason, and Da Vinci had used his playbook to pick hers.</p>
<p>By the time Romani's alarm goes off, he's almost forgotten he even <em>made</em> a threat. That's a little dangerous ... he's not sure how to turn on the brakes, when he has a purpose.</p>
<p><em>did he answer?????</em> comes on the heels of the alarm, impatient in its punctuation. Honestly, <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span>’s the only thing that’s kept him sane through the last few hours of report hell.</p>
<p>Romani looks. The IM field is bare. Merlin's made no response.</p>
<p><em>no</em>, he sends to <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span>. <em>no cameras, no recordings, nothing. understood?</em></p>
<p>
  <em>FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE</em>
</p>
<p>Romani logs off both services, and the laptop, and stows it in the locked drawer in his desk. He won't want to be lugging that around for the rest of the night. Once Merlin gets here — well, they're going to be having a <em>conversation</em>, that's all.</p>
<p>He doesn't take anything with him, forgets he'd taken off his coat earlier until he's two halls down, and too into his stride to turn around. It's fine. He won't need it, for this.</p>
<p>It's a vaguely surprising to realise that he doesn't feel angry — not like he'd started to the other day, not like he had with Ramesses. Just — calm. And intent. Merlin is <em>not</em> getting out of this. Da Vinci can't do much other than cajole him with scripts and text, but that doesn't mean Romani has to settle.</p>
<p>When Romani gets to the summoning room he hears Ritsuka's voice from clear out in the hall, explaining in detail the way she summons. "It's — it's — I don't know, there's a <em>feeling</em> in it, you know? When you know someone's there, on the other side of a door? Even if you can't say how you know ..."</p>
<p>"I think I know what you mean, Senpai." Mash sounds a little doubtful. "Most of the materials I've read say the ritual is important and don't mention anything about the feeling ..."</p>
<p>"Most of those materials were from the Clock Tower," Romani says as he comes in, and both the girls jump where they're leaning, shoulders pressed, over the summon simulator. Down the bank of computers, Dustin is watching them with indulgent amusement, like an uncle who has no idea what his nieces are talking about, but he's having fun watching them figure it out, anyway. That’s good. Dustin was there, during the Grand Order. Romani won’t have to try and get him out of the room, and even manages a small smile. "Dustin. I'm going to need the summoning room, is that okay?"</p>
<p>"Sure, Doc," says Dustin, looking startled. "I've run all the maintenance for today — Ritsuka here was just going to purge some of the excess."</p>
<p>"I missed yesterday's," Mash says earnestly, "so I asked Senpai to wait."</p>
<p>"Then you can both watch, tonight," Romani says simply as he rolls up his sleeves, and Ritsuka's eyes just about bug out.</p>
<p>"<em>Are you performing a summon</em>?" she asks in a high-pitched whisper, and Romani laughs softly, and doesn't answer in favour of spinning magic between his fingers.</p>
<p>"Power down the dais for a few minutes, will you?" he asks Dustin, and turns his attention back to the space between his palms. "Candle rod. This long." He measures with his fingers. "A candle of chalk. Set."</p>
<p>Ritsuka sighs and it's nearly a moan as the rod spins into existence in his grip, a good four feet long. "When are you going to teach <em>me</em> how to do that?"</p>
<p>"I already told you the fundamentals of Item Creation, Ritsuka," Romani says patiently. He's feeling a bit — distant, and he can <em>feel</em> the urge to smile that smile, and shakes his head to throw it off and smile at her <em>properly</em>, trying not to detach so much that he starts — he doesn't know, acting like a dumbass king, maybe. "Ah, but if you want to know about <em>modern</em> magecraft, you're better off asking Lord El-<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Melloi</span> II. He <em>is</em> a Clock Tower professor, you know."</p>
<p>"I wanna learn from you," Ritsuka grumbles, and Mash nods emphatically with wide eyes, and that makes Romani's chest feel warm. "And anyway, when I do it, it's not like <em>that</em>."</p>
<p>"Your way is still different from the Clock Tower's way, Senpai," says Mash, and Romani sees Ritsuka's head whip around as he goes to the now-quiet dais.</p>
<p>"Is it?"</p>
<p>Quietly Romani goes around the dais, the chalk scraping as he draws the lines he's going to need for this ritual, amending the ones already graven. They don't need to be permanent ... they just need to last once. He listens to Mash talking behind him, her voice the even tone just short of a lecture which she uses when she's explaining something to someone technically above her.</p>
<p>"Yes, Senpai. Clock Tower Item Creation is a lot more about alchemy, or using rituals and preparation. I haven't seen anything in Chaldea's magecraft library which suggests you can just talk things into existing, at least not on a practical level."</p>
<p>"Well, I mean, I still need a picture or something ... like with the key in Nursery Rhyme, in the Forgotten Singularity."</p>
<p>"Yes," says Mash patiently, "but a Clock Tower mage would need to use a lump of metal. If they were a really <em>good</em> mage, they would be able to use unrefined ore. Theoretically it's believed that people <em>could</em> use the base energy of the planet to create items the way Doctor Roman does, but it was thought to only be possible during the Age of the Gods, when the mana in the atmosphere was that much higher. The fact that you drew a three-dimensional key out of a two-dimensional picture in a book is <em>amazing</em>, Senpai."</p>
<p>"Oh, well, Doctor Roman took me through the theory ..." On his first pass around the dais, Romani catches Ritsuka going slowly red while looking pleased, and hides a smile. "I'd ask how the Clock Tower says to do it, but if I know that then I'll start wondering about all the ways it's supposed to be impossible, huh?"</p>
<p>"Yes," Mash agrees. "I don't think you should look at those, Senpai." She's quiet for a moment, and then says slowly and hesitantly: "I wonder if <em>I</em> could learn to do that, after my magical circuits are working again ...?"</p>
<p>"I'll bet you can," says Ritsuka, in her most definitive tone. "I mean, if <em>I</em> can do it, there's no way you <em>can't</em>. The only training I have is in contracting with Servants and Doctor Roman answering a few questions for me, and it's not like my magical circuits are anything special."</p>
<p>"Th- thank you, Senpai ..."</p>
<p>Ah, now they're both blushing and smiling stupidly at each other, and Romani catches Dustin ducking his head to hide a grin into the screen in front of him. He compresses his lips to keep his own face a <em>little</em> dignified. He's going to have to add some <span class="pwa-mark decorator">spellwork</span> to Mash's schedule anyway, to keep her circuits maintained ... he should probably add Ritsuka to those lessons, huh? He might need to owe Velvet a favour for that. All the cantrips and basic spells are the ones that will help Mash the most, at least as far as training her circuits into a functional baseline without overloading them, and they're the best way to start filling in the gaps in Ritsuka's knowledge. They're also exactly the ones Romani knows nothing about. There'd been no such rules when he'd been alive the first time.</p>
<p>Later. Romani lets them keep talking quietly about the summoning system, and on his third pass the door slides open and Gilgamesh enters to take up a station by the door, leaned against the wall. He says nothing; Romani says nothing. But Romani catches his eye and Gilgamesh's grin is his smuggest and most obnoxious, and there's no way he doesn't know exactly what Romani is doing, and wanted to be here to witness Merlin's fall.</p>
<p>Well, that's not an argument Romani's going to get into, even if he has to wonder what's making Gilgamesh so spiteful about it. As long as Gilgamesh doesn't interfere, it doesn't really matter. Anyway, he’d planned to let Gilgamesh find out about Romani’s chat with Ramesses and let the King of Heroes come to him with an offer, instead of seeking him out. Pride has its uses — in someone else.</p>
<p>Romani is just closing the circle when <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span> skulks in with her cape drawn close around her and her hood pulled low. The dais crackles and lights up with a hum, and Dustin lets out a started exclamation at the sudden draw of power.</p>
<p>"Uh — Doctor Roman, I'm not cleared to draw that much power tonight —"</p>
<p>"It's fine," says Romani firmly, and puts the rod into Ritsuka's grabbing hands. "I know you usually record summonings. Turn it off."</p>
<p>"Okay?" Dustin sounds a little frazzled, but turns to do it anyway. He's not a mage, only an engineer, working with powers he hadn't known existed once upon a time.</p>
<p>Romani turns to Osakabehime and holds out his hand, and she pulls her cape defensively tighter. "What?" Rainbows thrum. Romani stares expectantly until Osakabehime deflates, grumbling, and puts the phone in his hand."<em>Killjoy.</em> Who doesn't wanna see an asshole taken down a peg? This could've gone <em>viral</em>!"</p>
<p>"Fool," says Gilgamesh from by the door, amused and derogatory at once. Oh, he's not here as a Caster, is he? Is that for his own sake, saving face before Romani, or for Merlin's? "This kind of summoning demands names to be spoken. You mongrels are fortunate to <em>hear</em> them, even once. The cowardly cambion is fortunate to be spared the fate of having them marked in history. The King of Mages is overly generous with his gifts."</p>
<p>Romani rolls his eyes as he turns to hand <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span>'s phone to Mash, not bothering to try and hide it from ... actually, pretty much anyone in the room. Gilgamesh's eyes narrow. <span class="pwa-mark decorator">Osakabehime</span> snickers. Ritsuka stuffs her fist in her mouth, her shoulders quivering, and Mash's mouth twitches.</p>
<p>"<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Tch</span>." Gilgamesh's lip curls, and he crosses his arms, and says nothing; but Romani can feel his dagger gaze on his back as he turns to the dais and raises his hands to the half-closed rose sleepy in his hair, twined through braid and ponytail.</p>
<p>"Come on," he murmurs, nudging, and the rose unwinds, petals unfolding, almost eager to nestle in his palm. Ah, this was a bad idea ... the last thing he needs is for most of the people in this room to see a rose being dewy and <em>wanton</em> at him.</p>
<p>Too late, anyway. Romani lets his hair fall loose, the braid still mostly intact on his shoulder but now lacking anything to tie it together. He cups the rose in his hands and takes a deep breath. The last time he'd performed a ritual like this, he'd had the benefit of the rings behind him ... now it's just him, alone, with no outside help, and no one propping him up, for good or ill. The thought puts something fiercely warm in his chest.</p>
<p>"Let faith and resolve be the essence," he says, and everything in the room goes still and breathless, waiting. "Let magic be my foundation. Let me pay tribute to every colour of the rainbow. Let my Master's enduring Temple be the guiding star." There's an electrical thud as the consoles power down, and Dustin glances at his screen in surprise. Romani's tattoos surge as the circle takes hold of him as its source instead, a rush of power that sets a hum under his feet, a light cast in the lines of his circuits and the ritual circle before him. He straightens unconsciously, his feet set and empty hand extended.</p>
<p>"<em>Listen</em>!" he commands. "O soul of the Earth, take heed! Let it be declared now: his flesh shall serve under me, and my fate will be in his sword. His body shall be sustained by my will: my power defended by his strength." Reality folds; through light, through colour, the veil of Avalon peels away, yielding to his authority and baring to his Sight a tower made of translucent wishes and the weight of guilt.</p>
<p>"Behold his names, by whose power it is necessary that his knees shall bend. Submit, Myrddin Wyllt, <span class="pwa-mark decorator">o</span> magus of flowers, and set. Submit, Merlin Ambrosius, <span class="pwa-mark decorator">o</span> long-seeing madman, and set. Submit, Emrys, prince of Dyfed, and set." The hum draws tighter and tighter, and Romani's tongue tingles. The rose blooms in his hand, stem and thorns twining down his arm and sinking into flesh with a sting he barely feels, and drawing from him; and on that thread the tower walls bow, and show him Merlin clinging desperately to stone floor. Romani lifts his chin, and orders: "<em>Submit</em>, Kokabiel, demon of lust, and <em>set</em>."</p>
<p>The name crashes off his tongue like a weight, never before spoken aloud in conjunction with Merlin himself. Somewhere behind him Mash gasps; somewhere ahead of him, Merlin shudders.</p>
<p>"I command thee, Myrddin Wyllt; I command thee, Merlin Ambrosius; I command thee, Emrys; I command thee, Kokabiel. <em>Come forth</em>."</p>
<p>The incantation closes like a dooming bell. The rose's thread, carved out through the world, snaps together. In a great heave of light and power Merlin slams into existence on the dais, and falls to his knees before his Master.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes. That is the end. Yes, you do need to wait for Makari next.</p>
<p>I have many, many Casters at my defensive disposal, for those of you eyeballing your Assassins.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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